#Sansa Stark x Jon Snow fanfic

[welldonebeca]

The Afternoon Visit

Summary: When Sansa and her daughter fall sick with the stomach flu, her not-boyfriend surprises her with a special kind of visit. WC: 2.5k words Warnings: Modern AU. Stomach flu. So much fluff, you have no idea. Kids - cause those are a warning.

Sansa hated living in King’s Landing.

She hated it pretty much a couple of days after moving into it, and continued to hate it now, years later.

And, specially, she hated it since she became a mother.

Look, Sansa wanted to have a baby.

She always wanted to be a mother and always cared for her little siblings and hoped she could have her own kid some day. So, when she turned 25 and had the idea of freezing her eggs because her doctor said it was the best time, and she realised that she was stable enough to have a baby… she made a decision.

Sansa couldn’t wait until she found a man with whom she felt comfortable enough and trusted to have a life-long bond. After two and a half failed relationships - the half being Joffrey’s uncle, who she had attempted to go out with the month after breaking up with Harry, but didn’t let it become a relationship once she realised that older single men with PhDs were single for a reason -  a lot of therapy and realising that she couldn’t both have a baby, her job and a partner, without one of those being compromised, she decided to have her baby on her own.

Three and a half months after freezing her eggs, she was in a doctors office and had semen she had purchased inserted into her womb. Her sister was right by her side - because she had heard of some doctor using his own semen to impregnate patients and wanted to make sure they were using the donor sample, which Arya didn’t tear her eyes from until it was inside of Sansa, making things very awkward - and once it was over, she went out to eat sushi, because, hopefully, it would be her last time eating it in at least a year.

Two weeks later, she had a positive pregnancy test, and a happy baby in her belly.

Serena Stark was born in King’s Landing.

Sansa wanted her to be born in Winterfell, but the idea of travelling up North while 9 months pregnant and then coming back with a newborn wasn’t very nice. So, her parents and Arya packed up and flew in, leaving Bran and Rickon with Robb in his home, and came to be present at the birth.

Serena was a big baby, with a big head. Sansa would know, her poor vagina took months to start feeling normal again - Arya still made fun of her for sitting on ice packs for the first month of post-partum.

But it was all worth it.

The nights of not sleeping, the faling asleep with a tit out while breastfeeding, the explosive diapers… everything made sense now that she had her daughter with her.

Having Serena, though, only made her hate King’s Landing more and long to go back to Winterfell. She wanted to show her daughter the snow, the castles, and how it felt to grow up around a loving family.

But the days she undoubtly hated King’s Landing the most was when one of them got sick.

When her baby was born, Sansa’s parents spent the first two months of her post-partum with them, helping her adapt to the new routine with a baby and with holsehold chores, but they had eventually left and she was all alone.

Now, her baby was a growing girl - three and a half - and Sansa was growing with her.

She was also ill after catching whatever stomach bug Serena had caught in her pre-school, and caring for a sick kid while also being sick wasn’t fun at all.

“Come on, baby,” she rubbed her back, trying to get her to eat the canned chicken noodle soup. “It’s good for you.”

Serena just whined into her neck, all fussy.

They had both barely eaten today, and Sansa really didn’t want her kid to be even more sick. Canned soup sucked, but what else could she even do?

A knock on the door made Sansa raised her head to look at it and frown in confusion. Who could it even be?

She adjusted Serena in her lap, and her daughter wrapped her legs around her waist as she dragged herself to check the security cameras outside.

“What?” she mumbled, confused.

It was Jon.

Jon Snow was Sansa’s… not-boyfriend. For the last three months they’d been going out and spending time together, and while she liked him very much, they had both agreed with taking things slow.

He had once passed her house to pick her up for an afternoon date, but had never met Serena because she didn’t want to introduce her baby to meet a man just for him to leave.

But he was right there at the door, carrying a big bag on his shoulder and waiting.

Sansa opened the door unsurely, trying to brush her hair back with her fingers after she undid all the locks she had put there so many years ago, to protect herself, still holding Serena.

He smiled brightly when she opened the door and then looked at the girl thrown all over her.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted her. “I hope this is not a bad time?”

Sansa hesitated a little.

“Well, it’s as not-bad as it can be,” she chuckled. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you.”

Jon quickly raised his bag.

“You told me you two were sick, so I bought some stuff that usually helps with stomach bugs,” he explained. “I thought you’d need it.”

Sansa relaxed, though surprised with the meaning of his visit as she gave him space to come in.

“Jon,” she sighed. “You didn’t have to.”

He scoffed, walking inside.

“As if I could ignore how you needed help right now,” he shook his head. “Where’s your kitchen?”

Sansa pointed the way, following him along, and Serena raised her head from her shoulder, finally outran by her curiosity as Jon set his bag on the counter.

“I mentioned to my neighbour that you were sick and she made you soup,” he told her, taking the container from inside. “It’s still warm, it’s why I didn’t show up earlier.”

Her daughter rubbed her eye with a pout.

“Who are you?” she mumbled.

Jon stopped, and they exchanged a couple of looks. He knew about Serena - and how she was Sansa’s child and Sansa’s only, no other man, woman or non-binary partner involved in her production or raising - from the get go, and was very respectful of her need of taking things slow because of Serena.

“Honey, this is Jon Snow,” she spoke after a minute of being stunned. “He’s my friend. Jon, this is Serena, my daughter.”

Her baby girl just waved at him before hiding her face in her neck again.

“Hello, Serena,” he spoke softly, anyway. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her daughter just hugged Sansa closer, and she sighed, rubbing her back gently.

“I’m sorry, she is a little fussy,” she apologised. “We are both not feeling like our best selves.”

Jon smiled softly, and she watched as he pulled more things from his bags.

“Tell me, Serena, do you like pedialyte?” he asked.

Jon took four - four - bottles of pedialyte from inside his bag, and a couple of boxes of icepop pedialyte along with other light snacks.

Serena moved, curious again.

“I like blue raspberry,” she told him, and he showed her the blue bottle.

“I got it for you,” he told her. “And some fruits too. Your mother told me you like berries.”

She just nodded, and Sansa watched them, surprised.

“Do you want to have a little bit now?” he offered. “I can cut them up for you.”

Sansa looked down at Serena, and she nodded slowly.

“Okay. And you, Sansa?”

She looked back at him, and Jon was raising his eyebrows at her.

“Me?”

“I’ll put the soup in a bowl for you,” he told her. “You need to eat too.”

She looked down, a little embarrassed. With needing to care for Serena, she didn’t even remember to eat.

“Thank you,” she spoke softly.

He just nodded along.

“Sit a little,” he instructed her. “You two need to let your body rest. I can take care of this bit.”

She did, turning the TV on and put Bluey on and cuddling your girl as she sucked on her finger, watching the Australian show. They made it through a whole episode before Jon arrived in the living room with two bowls and a sippy cup, setting them down on the low table in front of the TV.

“Here you go,” he spoke gently. “And I got your blue rasberry punch, too.”

Serena eyed him with hesitance, and Sansa rubbed her back a little bit.

“Why don’t you drink a little sip?” she offered. “It’s in your favourite cup.”

Jon took the cup, and showed it to her with a little friendly smile, waiting quietly.

“You don’t have to drink it all,” he assured her.

Serena reached for him slowly, taking the sippy cup, and drank from it slowly as they watched her and the show played on the TV, still half attached to Sansa.

She put the cup down, and Jon picked it up before giving her the bowl, and she could see it had strawberries, blueberries, rasberries and grapes inside, all cut in a half for practical reasons and looking very yummy, and - to Sansa’s relief - her daughter also seemed interested in it, grabbing little pieces and eating slowly while still in her arms.

“Well done, honey,” she kissed her sweaty temple, quickly spitting out some of her hair.

Jon, now seated on the floor, looked up at her face.

“She looks like a little copy of you,” he chuckled.

Sansa smiled a little. Everyone always told her that. Serena had all her Tully features, with her red wavy hair and sky-blue eyes, just like all of her uncles did. Her mother’s genes were very strong.

Jon picked up the soup bowl, and Sansa grimaced a bit.

“I don’t think think I have enough free hands for that.”

He looked down at the bowl and grimaced, and she chuckled, but he quickly stood up with it.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he told her.

Jon left for the the kichen and came back a couple of minutes later with a coffee mug and the bowl half empty.

“There you go,” he gave it to her. “One hand soup.”

Sansa giggled a little, feeling a bit more relaxed now.

“Let me know when you need the refil,” he told her, standing up. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go wash the dishes now.”

Her eyes widened.

He was going to do what?

“What?” she asked, holding Serena close and putting the mug down. “Jon, no!”

He was quick to raise his hand, shaking it and he shook his head.

“Hey, I”m here to help,” he told her. “You two need to rest and hydrate and I can do a few chores while you do.”

She stared at him, not knowing what to say.

Aside from her family, no one had ever offered to help her like this.

“You don’t have to,” she told him. “You’ve already done a lot.”

He just gave her a smile.

“I want to do it,” he told her simply. “Don’t worry.”

He left back to the kichen, and Sansa could only stare on his way out before Serena poked her.

“Bluey, mummy,” she requested.

She sat back and pressed play on the TV show, reaching for her soup and drinking it. It was very nice, almost like her mother’s soup.

Her daughter watched the show as she ate, but Sansa couldn’t quite focused on the show, seeing Jon as he cleaned up her kichen, not seeming bothered at the least with the work.

Serena finished eating, and drank her pedialyte quietly before curling against Sansa, all sleepy, and she just held her close, grateful that she was finally resting. Their morning had been exhausting, to say the least.

She didn’t even notice she had dozed off herself until she felt something over her, and opened ther eyes, startled, to find Jon covering the two of them with a blanket.

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “Just me.”

Sansa smiled a little, yawning, and Jon pushed her hair back.

“I took the liberty of doing the laundry,” he whispered. “And it’s drying now.”

She flushed, a little embarrassed, but feeling something else too.

Jon was the sweetest man she had ever gone out with, and probably the sweetest man she had ever met.

She didn’t know a single man who would go out of his way like this just to get food and medicine to her, and even less do her dishes and her laundry.

“I’m making dinner for you,” he told her. “Some smash potatoes and turkey, nothing big.”

Sansa moved a hand to her face. God, she probably looked like such a mess right now.

“Jon, you didn’t have to,” she repeated. “I don’t even know what to say!”

He smiled, and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Just focus on getting better,” he said simply. “Eat, and make sure this pretty lady eats too. If she’s anything like me, she is going to love the icepops so much she’ll eat three or four of them at once if you let her, but I’m sure you know when to give them.”

She nodded a little. Yes, her doctor had given her some instructions about that.

“Have some too,” he instructed. “And rest. I can have lunch delivered tomorrow if you want to, or…”

He hesitated, and she looked into his eyes, a little eager now.

“Or?”

Jon flushed a bit.

“I could come too?” he asked.

Sansa’s cheeks felt hot.

“I’m sick,” she reminded him. “I don’t want you to catch it.”

His lips curled in a little smile.

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about that.”

Sansa watched his eyes for a moment and bit her lower lip.

“You could come,” she agreed. “If you want to, of course. I’m sure Serena will be a little nicer to talk to too.”

Jon grined, looking a little happy, and scratched the back of his neck.

“Would you mind if I brought her some you?” he asked. “I saw this wolf plush, I didn’t know if you would be okay if I did.”

Her eyes widened a bit.

“You can,” she agreed quickly. “I’m sure she will love it. She loves plushies.”

Jon nodded, and stood a little straighter.

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll go check the potatoes now. You go rest.”

He walked back with a little smile on his lips, and she watched him go, surprised, and looked down at Serena.

She had been worried about introducing him to her daughter for so long because she was afraid he would be just like all of the other men she had tried to date in her life, but Jon was different.

He was… special. In the best of ways.

. . .

"The Afternoon Visit" was posted on my Patreon back in October 2022! To read have early access to my stories, consider subscribing to my page! It's just $2 a month, and it helps a lot!

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​​ @amythyststorm33​​​ @shaelyn102​​​ @yknott81​​​ ​​ @maximofftrash​​​ @kgbrenner​​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​​ @magpiegirl80​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @shadowhunter7​​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​​ @deemoriarty​​​ @05spn18​​​ @malindacath​​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​​ @widowsfics​​​ @frozenhuntress67​​​ @averyrogers83​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @giruvega

#jonsa #jonsa fanfic #jonsa fic #jonsa fanfiction #jonsa fluff #jonsa au #sansa stark #jon snow #jon snow x sansa stark #jon snow x sansa stark fluff #jon snow x sansa stark au #jon snow x sansa stark imagine #jonsa imagine #sansa stark x jon snow #sansa stark x jon snow fanfiction #sansa stark x jon snow fanfic #sansa stark x jon snow fic #sansa stark x jon snow fluff #sansa stark x jon snow au #sansa stark x jon snow imagine

[axelsagewrites]

Main Masterlist Here

House of the Dragon Masterlist Here

Warnings/Guides

【P】Platonic【P】 🆇Smut 18+🆇

Request Line Up and Request Rules

♡ Jon Snow ♡

🆇What he's like in bed🆇

Blind date

🆇Milady🆇

🆇Home Alone🆇

🆇Price of My Secrecy 🆇

Relationship Moodboard

🆇Couldn't Resist🆇

♡ Robb Stark ♡

Best Friend

Marriage night

🆇Dream🆇 🆇part two🆇

Frey Girl 🆇part two🆇

🆇I miss you🆇

Cloak

Honey Cakes (cloak part two or standalone)

Comfort

Sweet Girl

🆇NSFW Alphabet🆇

🆇Good girl🆇

Yearbook

Don't Die For Me

🆇Little Secret🆇

🆇Can't Catch a Break🆇

Goodnight Dear Husband

♡ Sandor Clegane ♡

Most People Say Goodbye Part One - Part Two

🆇Brat🆇

♡ Beric Dondarrian ♡

Home

♡ Thoros of Myr ♡

Favourite Friend

♡ Brienne of Tarth ♡

【P】Queen in the North and South【P】

♡Ned Stark♡

🆇MiLord🆇

🆇Wife🆇

♡Ramsay Bolton♡

🆇My Father Would Kill Me🆇

🆇Catch You🆇

🆇How Far Would You Go🆇

🆇Appreciate You🆇

🆇Bath🆇

🆇Little Mouse🆇

♡Roose Bolton♡

Perhaps

Not Yet

♡Edmure Tully♡

【P】Who We Call Family【P】

My Queen My Love

♡Theon Greyjoy♡

Dream of Sweet Memories

🆇Give it back🆇

♡Sansa Stark♡

Roommates

🆇NSFW Alphabet🆇

🆇What's This?🆇

Surprise Visit

♡Podrick Payne♡

🆇Praise🆇

♡Daenereys Targaryen♡

🆇My Queen🆇

♡Jamie Lannister♡

🆇Extra Credit🆇

♡Oberyn Martell♡

🆇Duty🆇

♡Margaery Tyrell♡

🆇Ropes🆇

♡Cersei♡

🆇Morning🆇

♡Tormund♡

🆇Real Man🆇

🆇Use your words🆇

♡ Yara Greyjoy ♡

Flirting

Preferences/Multicharacter

🆇Company🆇 - Yara and Ellaria threesome

🆇What they're like in bed🆇 – Robb, Jon, Sandor, Podrick

How they react to teasing – all

🆇What They're Like in Bed🆇 – Margaery, Sansa, Danny, Yara

Share pt1 🆇Competition pt2🆇 🆇Wait p3🆇 - Robb and Jon

🆇Hook ups🆇 - Theon and Jon

Love Languages - Jon, Robb, Bran, Tormund, Podrick, Oberyn

Thanks for any support I appreciate it all xoxo Sage

Dividers from here and here from @saradika

Post topper made on Canva

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #ned stark x reader #robb stark x reader #sansa stark x reader #bran stark x reader #jon snow x reader #sandor clegane x reader #jamie lannister x reader #ramsay bolton x reader #brienne of tarth x reader #podrick payne x reader #got #got x reader #got imagine #game of thrones imagine #masterlist #game of thrones fanfic #robb stark #jon snow #game of thrones smut #robb stark smut #theon greyjoy x reader #yara greyjoy x reader #daenerys targaryen smut

[justmymindandstuff]

Promise - Jon Snow x Y/N (Reader)

Summary: You are a Lady from House Tully and Catelyn Starks ward. But you love her husband bastard son Jon and he loves you. Your relationship is a secret, but you don't care. But then Jon makes the decision to go to the Wall.

Warnings: implied first time, fluff, forbidden love

Words: 2.876

Gif not mine

English is not my frist language, so forgive me for my mistakes; not proof read. 

You sit in the warm room and work on a handcraft. Sansa sits next to you and you both listen to the Septa's words. She explains something about housekeeping and numbers to you and Sansa, but you get bored and Sansa also prefers to concentrate on her stitches. Lady lies at your feet, her eyes are closed and she makes a quiet hum every now and then. Arya, fortunately for her, had hidden before the lesson with the Septa began. She's probably wandering around Winterfell or watching her brothers training with their swords. You are jealous of her.

"Septa, can you please tell us something about the Prince?" asks Sansa. Since Lord and Lady Stark shared with you that the royal party are one their way to visit Winterfell Sansa can only think about the golden Prince Joffrey.

"No, you have more important topics to learn my dear child." the Septa answers.

There's a knock on the door and Jon pokes his head in. Sansa rolls her eyes at the sight of her „Bastard-Brother“.

“Excuse me, Lady Stark sent me to get Lady Y/N.” You put your work aside and stand up.

"We will make up for the lesson." says the Septa.

"Of course." You say, but know you won't mind hearing such boring facts again. "Shall we go for a walk with Lady later?" Sansa asks. The Direwolf opens her eyes when she hears her name, but doesn´t move.

"Yes, I'll come straight to you after I've been to your mother." you answer. You are Catelyn Stark's ward, the daughter of a distant cousin of the Tullys. After your mother died giving birth to your brother and your father was called to Kingslanding by King Robert, Catelyn and her family let you in their house and raise you like you are one of them.

Jon closes the door behind you and smiles at you. You both walk through the corridors.

"Do you know what Catelyn wants?"

"Nothing. It was a lie. Do you really thought Catelyn will send me to get you?"

You laugh. "You can´t do things like that." you say but you smile. "It´s dangerous."

"Is it?" he asks, grabs your hips and press you gently against the next wall.

"Jon no." you giggle but then you grab his hand and kiss him, his grip at your hip tightens. Suddenly you hear steps, you and Jon jump apart and he takes two steps back.

"Because of you we will get caught." You say, Jon holds his arm to you, and you rake under it.

"You kissed me My Lady."

"I am sorry my Lord." Jons gaze is a bit sad now and he opens his mouth but you already know what he wants to say.

"I´m not a Lord.” You are faster than him and he smiles. “I know but I don´t care."

"Do you want to go for a ride?" he changes the topic. 

"Of course."

"Good, meet me at the gates." Jon presses a light kiss at your lips and walks down the floor. You take a deep breath to calm down your heartbeat. Everytime you see him you have the feeling that your heart jumps out of your chest and in your stomach fly butterflies. You are madly in love with this man and you have the luck that he loves you too. You know it´s dangerous. He is a bastard and you are a Lady. Your Love is forbidden but you don´t care.

You walk through Winterfell, your home, to the gates. Ghost comes to you and nudges his snout into your hand. Behind the gates waits Jon with two horses. You take the reins from him and get on the horse. Jon also gets on his horse and together you ride off into the forest. It´s a bit cold, but you don´t care. You just enjoy the time you spend with Jon.

Jon stops in a clearing. "Let's take a break." You look at him a little confused, you two usually ride for hours through the forests around Winterfell. And it's usually you who ends up barely getting off the horse because your legs are stiff and hurt. Jon gets of his horse and comes to you to help you, but you don´t need his help. You jump from the horseback and land bevor your Lover.

"Not really Ladylike."

"Shut up Snow." you laugh, and he takes your hand in his.

"Usually, your word is my command." he kisses your hand. "But today I have to talk to you."

You look at him worried. "Something happened?" you ask. Jon sighs, taking your hand in one hand and the reins in the other. Then he starts walking, Ghost runs next to you. You're still waiting for an answer. "I spoke to father today. After the king came to visit, he allowed me to go to the wall."

You stop, forcing Jon to stop too.

"What?"

"It has always been my dream to go to the wall."

"You want to put on the black? You want to leave me?" you can´t believe what you´re hearing.

"No! No Y/N of course I don't want to leave you. But father says the king wants him as his hand. There is no other reason why he should travel north otherwise. And then I can't stay here."

"Robb wouldn't send you away."

"Of course not. But you know what Catelyn thinks of me, when father is gone it will only get worse and besides, what else do I have other than the wall?"

Tears come to your eyes. "You have me. But that doesn't seem to be that important to you." you pull your hand away.

"No! Y/N please. Listen to me okay. Please let me explain."

"What do you want to explain? Why you are leaving me? I don´t want to hear it." You say angrily, you don't want him to leave you. "You said you loved me!"

"I love you."

"You don't leave the person you love."

Now tears come to Jon's eyes too. "What choice do I have?"

"You can stay here with me."

"And then? Continue to hide? Continue to meet in secret? Secret kisses and always being afraid of being caught? In the worst-case Catelyn catches us and she will demand my head."

"No she won't! I'll explain to her that we love each other."

"You know her, she will not listen to you."

"Is that what you care about? Is it fear? Do you not want to see me anymore? But please, don´t leave our home."

"I love you! I can't even spend a day away from you without it tearing me up inside." He pulls you towards him and presses his lips against yours. The kiss is full of passion and love and you cling to him like you'll never see him again. You break apart breathless. Jon rests his forehead against yours and looks deep into your eyes.

“Please believe me that I love you and that I don't want to leave you. But I'm a bastard Y/N, there's hardly a place for me in this world. But I will have a place and a task at the Wall."

"I believe you. But I don't understand why you want to leave. You have a place in Winterfell. Your place is at my side. Isn't that enough for you? Am I not enough for you?"

"Of course." Tears run down your cheeks. Jon carefully wipes them away with his thumbs. “But we both know, someday you will leave Winterfell to marry some old Lord. And then I have nothing left. The Wall is my only way out, even if I have to leave you for it. It is better like this, for both of us.“ It feels like he's leaving you already “Please Y/N please don’t be mad at me and try to understand why I have to leave.”

"I'll try it."

"Let's ride back. You have a meeting with Sansa."

"Now I don't feel like walking anymore."

"I'm sorry. But I just wanted to explain my decision to you."

You nod and you head back to Winterfell. You stay silent the whole way back, you have a lot to think about. Shortly before you arrive, you part ways and you are the first to ride into the courtyard of Winterfell. Jon will follow you after a while.

Sansa comes towards you. "There you are." she calls. "We wanted to go for a walk."

"I'm not feeling so well, Sansa." you say, getting off the horse and walking past her. Sansa looks at you a little confused, but she doesn't say anything else.

Your thoughts revolve around Jon and his decision to go to the Wall.

You try to understand why he wants to leave. And even if you don't really want to admit it to yourself, you can understand his reasons.

You walk towards your room when Arya approaches you.

"Hello Y/N." Arya says happily when she sees you.

"Hello little wolf." You say, forcing a smile on your lips for her. "You weren't at the class with the Speta this morning."

"Yes, I managed to escape." laughs Arya.

"You shouldn't neglect your classes."

"I know."

"I won't tell your mother under one condition."

"What do you want?"

"Come with me and read something to me. You read so well, please Arya."

She rolls her eyes. She hates these things, actually she hates everything that has nothing to do with swords and bows. "Fine." she then agrees. The two of you make your way to your room, you take the book you are currently reading and give it to Arya. It's a silly fairy tale about love, but when Arya starts reading you close your eyes and imagine it's your story. Your love story with Jon.

--

And then the day comes. The worst day of your life! Today the royal Party will leave Winterfell and with them Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya and Jon. Originally you should travel with Lord Stark and his daughters to Kings Landing, but after Bran fell from a tower, you stay behind with Catelyn and Robb. 

You are awake long before the sun will rise, but you couldn´t stay in bed. You get dressed and leave your room. You walk through the corridors up to Jons room. You are not often here, the danger of being caught is far too great, but today nothing matters anymore. You knock at his door, it takes a moment and then he opens the door. He stands in front of you and looks at you in surprise.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

You try to ignore his bare chest and step inside his room.

“I couldn´t sleep and I wanted to say goodbye to you. Before we doesn´t have time for us anymore.” Tears well up in your eyes. You had prayed to the gods that this day will never come, but now there is nothing you can do anymore than watch the love of your life leave.

Jon smiles at you. “I am glade, that you are here, but what if someone sees you?”

“I don´t care.”

“You should.”

“No. Everything I care about is that we only have hours left together.” You reach up to him and kiss his lips.

Jon kisses you back for a second, but than he pulls away. “Y/N.” he sighs and looks at you with sad eyes.

“No. I don´t want to be sad now. Please. We only have a few hours left together. I don´t want to waste them.”

Jon strokes your cheek and smiles. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. Forever.”

Jon kisses you again, you wrap your arms around his neck. Jon wraps his arms around your body and pulls you closer to him. The kiss is full of love and affection. You know he loves you and he know you love him. Even if your love is forbidden, even if everything speaks against your love. Nobody can take this away form you. Not a King, not a Lord or the Wall.

Your hands run over his bare chest.

His lips move to your neck, and you have to suppress a moan. His touch sets a fire inside you. You know this feeling, Jon has triggered this feeling in you again and again.

His hands roam over your back and then in front and over your arms. Jon pulls away from you, breathing heavily. His eyes sparkle and his lips meet yours again. Just for a second and then he pulls away.

"You have to go."

"Why."

"If you stay any longer, I can't promise anything anymore."

"I don't want you to promise me anything." you kiss him again, this time demanding and passionate. Your hands bury themselves in his hair and Jon groans.

"We can´t." He whispers against your lips and then kisses you again. His hands roam over your body and you get goosebumps all over your body.

"I know what you're afraid of, Jon. But don't worry."

Jon looks at you for a moment. You can see in his face that he is thinking.

And then he kisses you passionately. His hands are all over your body. You snuggle up against him and moan under his touch. "Are you sure?" he asks breathless.

"Yes. I've never been so sure."

You turn around, Jon kisses your neck as he undoes the laces of your dress. It falls to the floor and you shiver.

You've never experienced anything like what you had with Jon that morning. It was loving, tender and beautiful.

You lie together on his bed. The sun rises and you hear the first servants walking across the hallways. Jon’s hand gently strokes your bare shoulder.

"We have to get up." you say.

"I don't want this moment to be over."

"I don't want it either." You turn to him and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Jon.” It's just a whisper in the room, but to you it means everything. No one can take your time with Jon away from you, even if he leaves you today.

“Y/N.” Jon's voice is suddenly serious. "I will travel to the Wall today and I will put on the black. But I want to promise you something. I promise you that we will see each other again." He kisses your forehead and now you can't hold back the tears. "Don't cry my lady."

"I'm trying My." you interrupt yourself. “My Jon.”

--

You stand next to Catelyn in the courtyard to say goodbye to the king and his entourage. And to say goodbye to Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya and Jon. You hardly dare to look Jon in the eyes. You try to hold back the tears, but you can't quite manage it. A few tears roll down your cheeks, but you can blame it on the fact that you're going to miss Sansa and Arya so much.

The royal party starts moving and Jon also turns his horse towards the gate. But before he leaves Winterfell he turns around again, and your eyes meet. You look into his eyes one last time. He nods slightly at you and smiles. It's a sad smile, but you know what it means. I love you and this farewell isn´t forever. You will see each other again.

The gates close and you stand alone in the courtyard, and for the first time since you have been in Winterfell, you are actually cold. For the first time in your live you feel lonely. Caytlin says something to you, but you don´t hear what she said. You turn around and run into your room. You lock the door behind you and fall weakly onto your bed. Tears immediately stream down your cheeks, and you feel like your heart is tearing apart in your chest. He is gone. He is really gone.

--

The cold wind blows around your ears and you pull the fur collar of your cloak further up. You take a deep breath and ride towards the gate of Castle Black. You stop just before the gate and get off your horse. Your steps slowly carry you forward.

“Who are you?” a strange voice came from behind the gate.

“Lady Y/N, from Winterfell. I want to see Jon Snow.” Your voice trembles, but you´re almost there. You´re almost with him.

It takes a short moment and then the gate open and you can step into the courtyard of Castle Black. A lot of strange man look at you. You look around nervously. Your hair is messy, and your dress is covered in dirt and the hem is soaked in blood. Robbs blood.

“Y/N.” his voice flows through you, you turn around and looks at him. Jon comes down the stairs and runs across the yard to you. Before he even reaches you, tears are running down your cheeks. Finally, he wraps you in his arms again. You take a deep breath. His scent, so familiar and yet so strange, envelops you. For the first time since you left the Twins you feel safe.

“Please never leave me again.” You whisper in his ear.

“Never. I promise.”

#Jon Snow #jon snow x reader #Jon Snow x Y/N #game of thrones #stark family #jon snow fanfiction #house stark #Catelyn Stark #catelyn tully #sansa stark #arya stark #robb stark #winterfell #asoiaf #asoif/got #asoif fanfic #the wall

[lovebaela]

THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH - MASTERLIST

(Bran Stark x Fem!Targaryen OC)

“ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑶𝒍𝒅 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒓𝒊𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 , 𝒊 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 .”

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑹𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑹𝒀𝑬𝑵 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Rhaella is the daughter of Mad King Aerys’ younger brother. Before the rebellion of Robert Baratheon, he fled to the Summer Isles, where he fell in love with a woman. He married her and they both consummated their marriage. Rhaella doesn’t know much about her parents, and always struggled with having a true home. One fateful day, her cousin Viserys sent her away to the Starks. Little did he know, that was the start of her journey of self-discovery.

“ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒂 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌 , 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑴𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 . 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 .”

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑲 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bran is the fourth child of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. All he ever wanted was to become a knight. He always thought one day he would join the kingsguard. That was until the day he found out he was betrothed to Rhaella. He didn’t think much of it, still able to be a warrior…until the day he became broken. All he wants is to find a purpose now in his life.

✮ ₊ Chapters ✧ ᵔ₊ 𓆪

1, 2, 3, 4

Disclaimer: I don’t own asoiaf, any pictures, or gifs that I use in the series🤍

Art by eleneyaart, fredrickruntu

Dividers by @saradika-graphics @saradika

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

#bran stark #bran stark x reader #asoiaf #game of thrones fanfiction #bran stark imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd hbo #masterlist #hotd masterlist #game of thrones masterlist #targaryen oc #daenerys targaryen #viserys targaryen #robb stark #jon snow #sansa stark #arya stark #jojen reed #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #game of thrones fic #a song of ice and fire #house stark #house targaryen

[akarena]

Could someone turn this badly too fast-paced movie into jonsa AU?

Cause as soon as I saw these two, I was immediately transferred.

The movie was really aesthetically pleasing, but it needed more screentime (a TV show) for its plot to naturally flourish and develop slowly.

I could even do some GIFs as a bribe

Movie name: The Tearsmith

Plot:

Basically adopted from an orphanage as siblings, but they got more feelings for each other.

#jon x sansa #jon snow #sansa stark #jonsa #fanfic aus #fanfic ideas

[samieree]

"Dawn of the North || Robb Stark" Masterlist

(fanfiction)(Robb Stark x OC)

[General Masterlist with list of boys I can write one-shots with here] [Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon Masterlist]

[my works are also avaiable on Ao3: Samiere and on wattpad: _Saelin]

!IMPORTANT INFO!

Introduction + Prologue

Chapter I "Family"

Chapter II "War in the south"

Chapter III "Silver-haired"

Chapter IV "News are various"

Chapter V "Truth?"

Chapter VI "First step"

Chapter VII "Mutual happiness [+18]

Chapter VIII "Temporary peace"

Chapter IX "The Twins"

Chapter X "Wildlings"

Chapter XI "The Letter"

Chapter XII "In the sight of the Seven..." [+18]

Chapter XIII "Harrenhal"

Chapter XIV "Proposition"

Chapter XV "Are you a witch?"

Important info!!!

Introduction + Prologue

Chapter I "Family"

Chapter II "War in the south"

Chapter III "Silver-haired"

Chapter IV "News are various"

Chapter V "Truth?"

Chapter VI "First step"

Chapter VII "Mutual happiness [+18]

Chapter VIII "Temporary peace"

Chapter IX "The Twins"

Chapter X "Wildlings"

Chapter XI "The Letter"

Chapter XII "In the sight of the Seven..." [+18]

Chapter XIII "Harrenhal"

Chapter XIV "Proposition"

Chapter XV "Are you a witch?"

#robb stark #game of thones fanfiction #game of thrones #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #ao3 #ao3 writer #wattpad #wattpad writer #jon snow #a song of ice and fire #robb stark smut #robb stark x oc #robb stark fanfiction #robb stark x targaryen #robb stark deserves more love #house stark #house targaryen #bran stark #rickon stark #sansa stark #arya stark #got #edmure tully #blackfish #fanfiction #fanfic

[mkstrigidae]

Coming back from the dead is the kind of thing that can really fuck up your weekend, as Jon has recently found out (especially considering that he’d paid a mint for those concert tickets, thanks). On one hand, the bureau paperwork is horrifying, and the less said about his skyrocketing health insurance premiums or this year's taxes, the better. On the other hand, though, Sansa Stark, the pretty head of the medical/pathology research division and long-time object of Jon's affections, has insisted on giving him her utmost attention until she’s sure he’s back on his feet and fully among the living.

#my writing #my fics #jonsa fic #jonsa #jon snow x sansa stark #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #got fanfic #a small goofy slightly gory oneshot of a workplace comedy? #Idk sometimes you just write something purely for yourself because it makes you personally laugh #weirdly this is one of my more romance-centered stories #despite the fact that it spends a lot of time talking about the biological implications of having been dead #like Jon does die but he also gets better right away so nobody is angsting about it #modern AU #Modern AU with magic and the paranormal #Sansa as a pathologist/medical researcher for a vague paranormal/magic government agency #Jon as a unit chief for paranormal artifact acquisition #(i.e. he's indiana jones but with paperwork) #Sansa and Qyburn as rival medical researchers who fucking hate each other #I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing AND editing and this was a good exercise plus it was also just fun to write #i make no promises about the biological accuracy of the symptoms of reanimation but it makes for a funny background thing #Melisandre as the bureau necromancer and resident office gossip

[orangeflavoryawp]

Jonsa - "No More Scars", Part 1

Jon gets Sansa out of King's Landing and they make their way to Riverrun, to reunite with family. A little speeding/condensing of the timeline, so Jon has died up at Castle Black and been revived already. He comes for Sansa after this. Everyone's aged up, as is my usual.

No More Scars

Chapter One: Quelling the Pain

“This is as far as we go.”  Jon and Sansa  - After rescuing her from King’s Landing, they have a long, winding road to Riverrun before them.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 fin

* * *

The first time Jon sees her in years, she is both half the girl he used to know and yet not wholly the woman he’d expected of her.    

“Did Robb send you?” Sansa asks, her brows furrowing over her wide, hopeful eyes.  

He isn’t sure whether the truth is welcomed or not, so he only reaches out his hand toward her.  “I’m here to get you out,” he tells her.  And it’s the safest truth, at least.  

She seems to think so as well, because then she’s tucking her hand into his, her mouth a tight line, her other hand clenching her robe closed over her chest, before he’s whisking her through the castle in the dead of night.  

She glances back behind her at the gilded cage of King’s Landing just the once, just enough to swallow back the bile.  

(He knows, because he sees her throat bobbing with it when he places his hands along her waist and hoists her up along the horse.  He takes his seat behind her and then they’re off.)  

She’s silent for the whole first half-day that they ride.  And then he veers off the road, takes them along a haggard horse-path heading northwest.  They don’t stop for many hours.  

When they finally drop from the horse for rest, she barely acknowledges him when he hands her a clean, simple dress.  She tucks behind the trees for cover and changes in silence.  Jon tends the fire in her absence.  When she returns, he has their bedrolls already set.  

He wonders if she will remark on the closeness of them.  

(He’s duty-bound to protect her, after all.  And he can’t do it from a distance.)  

She does not ask of Robb again, though he waits expectantly for it.  

Instead, Sansa only drops down quietly along her spread blanket, not even taking the offered bread he hands her.  And then she’s sleeping – quiet and still and deep.  

He watches her curl in on herself in her sleep, as he stokes the fire half-heartedly, before dousing it, and turning in himself.  

The next day is much of the same.  Hours and hours of riding.  Hours and hours of quiet.  

He thinks she understands now – the answer to her question.  

“Did Robb send you?”  

He accepts that he may have broken her.  

(Because to accept that they left her to be broken is far, far worse.)     * * *

“We’ll keep off the Gold Road,” Jon says, taking the pack from their horse, and dropping it in the dirt at their feet.  He then tugs the horse toward a nearby tree, looping a tied rope around one branch to tether it, before unbridling the animal.  

Sansa watches in a rather dumbfounded state.  

Jon glances back to her, slowing in his motions.  “Until we’re further north and closer to Riverrun, we can’t risk the main roads.  You’re a wanted fugitive by the crown now.”  

Sansa only nods, her lips pressed tightly together.  She glances around at the small clearing he’s stopped them in.  

Jon crouches at the pack by her feet, pulling out two thin bedrolls, and then stopping to glance up at her.  He works his jaw, eyes downcast.  “I can’t promise you comfort, Sansa,” he says, hands gripping the unfurled bedroll in his hands.  

She glances to him, hands limp at her sides.  

“But I promise to get you home,” he finishes, looking up at her.  

She watches him for many moments, her breath tight in her chest.  And then she glances out to the woods around them, peers into the trees, tries to decipher the darkness slowly creeping into the canopies.  

Jon sighs beneath her, continuing his task of preparing them for bed, no more words to follow.  

Sansa closes her eyes.  Thinks of her mother.  Hears Rickon’s laugh at her ear.  

A soft, watery gasp leaves her – barely there.  Her lungs tighten at the memory.  

She opens her eyes.  The forest is still there.  The sun still sinks beneath the tree line.  

But Jon is here, spreading out his bedroll to lie beside hers, his hand smoothing over the wool.  

She wants to cry suddenly.  

“Sansa, look, we just have to – "  

She drops to a squat in a single, sinking motion, arms wrapping tight around her legs, her head buried in her knees.  A staggering breath shudders from her.  

“Sansa,” she hears at her side.  

“I just want – ” she says, and then stops, the breath hitching in her throat.  

She just wants –   

A sob breaks from her lips, splashing against her knees.  She digs her head in deeper, another sob catching at the edge of her teeth.  

“Sansa,” he says again, and she feels the pressure of his knees settling beside her in the ground.  

She pulls her head up to watch him.  “I just want to go home,” she croaks out, the words bitter and lonesome along her tongue, her face crumbling instantly.    

Jon reaches for her hesitantly, before stopping, his hand hovering in the air.  

She only looks at him, the tears hot along her lids.  Her mouth tips open, but there are no more words.  At least, none as important.  “I just...”  

Jon’s eyes shift between hers frantically, worried and wanting and always unsure.  

“I want to go home.  Nothing more,” she cries out brokenly, before she buries her face back into her knees, the world a sudden rush around her – the years and faces and fears of her recent captivity an instant barrage, an unrelenting assault.  

Cersei’s sneering face.  Joffrey’s threats.  The bruise of a guantleted fist.  The harsh tear of her dress.  The Hound’s taunting.  Tyrion’s barely constrained touches.  The mocking court.  And the loneliness, the loneliness, gods the loneliness.  

Her breath catches, harsh and dry in her throat, her mouth parting on the sound, but the tears are familiar, constant, ever-present.  The wail she bites off at her knees peters out into a pained moan and then –   

Then his hands are around her shoulders, pulling her toward him.  His chest is warm and firm and broad.  His hands –   

His hands never let her go.  

She turns into his shoulder with a ragged cry, her fingers clutching his tunic, her breath stalled in her chest, and her cries, her cries, her cries –   

Muffled in his trembling embrace.  

It’s an awkward fumble of limbs, the way she falls against him, her knees giving out, her arms reaching for him like he’s the last gasp of air her lungs will ever know.  

And yet always, constantly, steadily in her ear, there is this:  

“I’ve got you.”  

His voice is warm at her temple, his lips pressed to her hairline.  She squeezes her eyes shut at the exhalation.  

“I’ve got you,” he breathes into her.  

The clutch of her fingers along his shoulders leaves marks for years to come.  

* * *

He’s packing up his bedding on the fourth day of their journey when she says it.  

He turns to her, finds her standing there with her woolen blanket folded over her arms, her eyes on his boots.  

“What?” he asks her, needing her to repeat it, afraid he’s heard wrong.  

She looks up at him, handing him her bedding to fold back into their pack.  “Thank you,” she says, even and smooth, only the trembling of her jaw giving away any hint of her uncertainty.  

Jon stays staring at her.  

She glances up at him, and then away, pulling the blanket back to her chest.  “Thank you,” she tells him, “For coming for me.”  

Jon remembers suddenly what her songs sounded like, and how she used to scowl so disapprovingly at Arya, and how she howled at him when he spilled his tea along her skirts once, and the direwolf handkerchief she’d knitted for Bran while he slept, and her curtsies and her sighs and her laughs and her pouts and her – and her –   

Half-brother, she’d called him.  

As though to spare him the pain of ‘bastard’.  

And yet, never enough to be just...  

(Brother.)  

Jon swallows thickly.  “Of course I’d come for you,” he says roughly.

She meets his eyes then, the blanket still tight to her chest.  

He opens his mouth, finds nothing there.  

Because of course he’d come for her.  She’s his sister.  She’s Sansa Stark.  

And she deserves to be fought for.  

She seems to crumple in on herself.  

Jon steps toward her.  

“I didn’t...” she starts, stops, swallows it down.  She licks her lips before trying again.  “I didn’t want to give myself false hope.”  

His brows furrow in confusion.  

She seems to notice, face pinching in consternation, and he knows now – what she looks like when she’s trying to word something as palatably as possible.  

It makes him feel dirty.  

(Because he knows now, that this was the norm, the standard practice for her – to be palatable.)  

“I just mean – "  

“You’re welcome,” he says, reaching for the bedding held tight to her chest.  

She eases her hold on it slowly.  

He pulls it gently from her grasp, his hand lingering near hers, the edge of their fingers brushing.  “You’re welcome,” he says again, the faint hint of a smirk tugging at his smile.  

She blinks at him, her shoulders bunching tight once more.  “Jon...”  

He squats down to continue packing their belongings away.  “You don’t really need to thank me, anyway.  I told you – of course I’d come for you.”  He feels her staring down at him for long seconds as he works, before she crouches down beside him to help.  

He pretends not to hear the quiet sniffling she tries to hide.   * * *

She always falls asleep first, her exhaustion unsurprising when they ride for hours each day. Sleeplessness is his companion now, anyway – has been since he first awoke with the red woman’s magic.  

He watches Sansa’s back in the dark, whittling the hours away before dawn.  

Sometimes he sleeps. Sometimes he doesn’t.  

But he never dreams. It’s just an endless darkness that takes him.  

Until Sansa’s hand at his shoulder rouses him, or the faint light of dawn peeking through the trees.  

He rises, like he did that first cold evening after death.  

And the journey continues.   * * *

“How did you leave the Watch? I thought those vows were for life,” Sansa asks softly, curling her knees under her, poking at the fire before their mats with a stick.  

Jon sits on the ground beside her, arms hanging over his bent knees. He glances to her at her question.  

Sansa pokes at the fire again, eyes fixed to it, before noticing his silence. She turns to him. “Aren’t they?” Her mouth purses in confusion.  

Jon nods, his throat bobbing. “Aye, they are,” he gets out roughly.  

Sansa lowers the stick in her hand. “So...?”  

“So, I gave my life for the Watch,” he snaps in answer.  

Her shoulders tense at his tone, her knuckles going white along the stick in her hold. She faces the fire once more. “I’m sorry, if I touched a tender subject,” she says diplomatically.  

He recognizes this side of her now. The side that braces for a raised hand. And he hates that he has stirred this in her.  

Jon sighs heavily, wiping a hand down his face, and then he reaches into the grass beside him, pulling out a fistful of blades. He starts to pluck at them and toss them one by one into the fire. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he grumbles out.  

Sansa remains quiet, resuming her cautious exploration of the fire.  

Jon throws another blade into the flames, a huff leaving him. “I’ll tell you someday, I promise. Just... not tonight.”  

“Alright,” she says gently, eyes still on the fire.  

Jon looks at her from the corner of his eye. “My men betrayed me,” he gets out finally.  

The burned end of the stick in Sansa’s grasp settles into the dirt as she drops her hand to her lap.  “They betrayed you? Why?” she asks, looking over at him.  Her brows furrow in question.  

Jon heaves a breath. “Because sometimes you just can’t change hate,” he says simply.  

And maybe it is that simple. Maybe it always has been. Maybe he’s just been too blind to see it.  

He isn’t strong enough to change a man’s hate. Or his fear.  

Maybe his real mistake was never understanding that.  

“You didn’t deserve that,” she says suddenly, a fierceness underlining her voice.  

Again, so simple.  

And yet, it makes him turn his head, makes him meet her gaze.  

She reaches out a hand and squeezes his fist reassuringly, before settling her hand back in her lap.  

She hasn’t a clue what their betrayal truly did to him. She hasn’t seen the scars. She hasn’t witnessed his cold body on a slab. And yet – simply – to hear those words –   

You didn’t deserve that .  

It makes the air catch in his throat.  

“Thank you, Sansa.”  

She smiles – hesitant and barely-there. But she smiles.  

A direwolf’s howl breaks the silence over them, coming from over the hills. Sansa starts, twisting back to look through the trees behind them, finding nothing in the darkness. “Is that...?”  

“Ghost,” Jon reassures her, tossing another blade of grass into the fire. “He’s keeping watch from a distance while we’re still this close to the main road. He’ll join us further north.”  

Sansa stays turned in her seat, gaze fixed to the darkness at their backs, her eyes slowly watering.  

The realization comes to him then, suddenly and sadly. He swallows tightly before he asks her, “What happened to Lady?”  

Because he knows. He knows. Only death could have separated them.  

Sansa purses her lips, her jaw tightening, and then she’s shuffling back to her previous position, tucking her legs underneath her with a downcast gaze. “Father killed her,” she clips out, a hand going to wipe the wetness from her eyes, as though it had never been.  

Jon’s shoulders slump at the revelation. He feels her loss keenly, like a piece of him has been torn away. He thinks of Ghost. Thinks of the terrible rending his death would cause in him, the ache, the tear, the missing of something that used to be of him. And then he thinks of their father.  

Jon clenches his hands into fists atop his knees. “Father... killed her?” he chokes out.  

Sansa nods. “As punishment for Nymeria attacking Joffrey, when Nymeria couldn’t be found.”  

“Oh,” he says, the breath shuddering from him. He wants to reach to her.  Doesn’t know how.  

Sansa tosses the stick into the fire. “I resented him so much for it, you know? I was so... so angry. And hurt. And I never felt safe again after that. And I couldn’t forgive him for it. And then I never got the chance to, anyway.”  

Jon stares at her, swallowing heavily.  

She sighs, hands winding nervously in her lap. “Because then he was dead. And I was forced to look at his head up on that pike, and I... I couldn’t...” She stops, her voice catching. She sniffs back the break, tries again. “I couldn’t forgive myself for missing the chance to tell him before he died – ” She sucks a sharp breath between her teeth, turning to face Jon, her eyes wide and salt-sheened. “That I forgave him, and that I loved him, and that I wasn’t angry with him anymore, that I – I just wanted him to come back, to take us from there. But I’ll never get that chance again. Because he’s gone, just like Lady, killed for a crime he never committed. He’s just... gone,” she exhales on a spent breath, pulling her lip between her teeth. And then she laughs, short and dark, a hand going to her eyes. “It’s so – so stupid,” she mutters.  

Jon turns fully to her, his knees folding beside him when he leans over and grabs for her wrist, gently tugging her hand from her face. “It’s not,” he tells her. “It’s not stupid.”  

She heaves a steadying breath, eyes still fixed on her lap, but they’re dry now at least.  

Jon rubs his thumb along the arch of her wrist. “And you didn’t deserve that,” he says meaningfully.  

Sansa looks up at him, brows pinched together when he repeats her words back at her. And then she laughs again, wipes at her nose with her free hand, straightens her shoulders. “Quite the pair we make, huh?”   

Her voice and face are still pained though, he sees this.  

But her wrist is warm beneath his touch, and she isn’t pulling from him.  

“Quite,” he agrees, the lilt of a smile gracing his face, his thumb etching over her pulse point again.  

She nods, licking her lips. “I’m glad it was you, Jon, who came for me.” She turns her hand over beneath his grasp and meets his palm with hers. Her fingers tighten over his. “I’m glad you’re here.”  

“So am I,” he says, the words instant along his tongue.  

And he means it, he finds. He means it with all of him.   * * *

Sansa hates rabbit meat, she discovers,  

Jon laughs at her when she makes a face at the skinned animal he turns over the fire.  

“It’s so chewy,” she bemoans later, grudgingly taking a bite of the thigh meat Jon offers her, hunger winning out over pickiness.  

“You need to eat,” he says firmly, though the hint of a smirk still rests at the corners of his mouth.  

She pouts at him.  

He only laughs harder.   * * *

He catches sight of the scar along the nape of her neck sometime in the next afternoon.  It takes him a while, his eyes usually trained ahead.  But then she sighs, a hand going to rub at her eyes.  She’s tired, he notices, and he looks at her for the first time that day, seated in front of him in the saddle.  Her hair is brushed over her shoulder, thin wisps of it escaping the partially pinned style.  There’s the slightest red tint over the tops of her ears and the back of her neck, a mark of the sun’s constant watch over their journey.  Her shoulders are slumped forward – thin and brittle.  The fabric of her dress is dulled and wrinkled over the expanse of her back.  And all this he expects until –   

The faint, white line etching out from beneath the collar of her dress, arching over the space where neck meets shoulder.  

He almost stops their horse at the sight.  

Instead, he simply stares, the steady rocking motion of the horse only increasing his focus.  Unbidden, his hand rises up to touch it, fingers dragging down the edge of her dress’ collar to bare the scar more fully to him.  

Something sharpens in his gut at the revelation it gives him.  The scar does not end.  It only stretches longer, harsher – unseen beneath the rest of her dress.  If he follows the path, he knows it will curve over her shoulder blade, down, and down – perhaps fading out along the backs of her ribs, or perhaps continuing on, to the curve of her waist, tapering off past her hip.  

His other hand tightens along the reins.  

Jon suddenly realizes she has stiffened in her seat, her shoulders bunching up.  Her breath has stilled.  

Jon eases the horse to a halt, the words dead along his tongue.  He stares at the haggard white strip of flesh at the base of her neck, his fingers still curled along the dress collar, tugged only partially down, his thumb arching tenderly over her scar.  

They stay like this for many moments, his eyes slowly watering, a heat behind them that seems finer than rage – more honed.  A slow, bitter wrath builds inside him.  

Sansa turns her head just slightly, not enough to catch his eyes, but enough for him to see the stiff purse of her lips.  

He lets out a heavy breath.  “What did they do to you?” he croaks out, surprising even himself with how the words manage to find air.  

She doesn’t answer at first, tongue flicking out to wet her lips.  She draws a slow, steady breath in – the first he’s felt from her since they’d stopped.  Her lids flutter closed.  “They did enough,” she tells him.  

He sucks a sharp breath between his teeth, his thumb pressing firmer along the nape of her neck.  

That fine-honed wrath – it narrows.  Becomes a pinprick focus.  

“Sansa,” he gets out raggedly, his hand releasing her collar, dragging over her neck instead, anchoring there at the edge of her shoulder.  He shakes with it – this righteous horror.  

And then she slips a hand over his, her fine-boned fingers delicate along his calloused ones.  

He blinks at the back of her head, the salt sting of tears lingering just at the corners of his eyes.  

She dips her head toward their joined hands along her shoulder, her lips a whisper away from his touch, her breath warming his knuckles.  “But they cannot anymore,” she tells him.  And then she glances further back, meets his eyes finally.  “Because of you.”  

Jon’s chest heaves, his hand in the reins settling closer now, just along her stomach.  

Her hand slips from over his, her shoulders unbunching as she faces forward once more.  There’s an ease to her frame now, a subtle freedom.  

As though she feels safe in his arms, pressed up against his chest.  

As though she knows:  

No other scars will follow.  

(And she’d be right – because this, he promises.)  

Jon clicks at the horse to continue, his heels pressing in short and quick.  They start moving again instantly.  

He keeps his eyes on the sliver of white flesh at her nape, and his hand pressed firm along her stomach, reins tangled in his fist.  

The weight of her against his chest is almost enough to quiet his wrath.  

But not quite.   * * *

“Is there a lake nearby? A river?” Sansa asks, eyes roving the land before them as they ride.  

“There’s a small river along our route but...” His voice trails off.  

Sansa glances back at him to find him looking north.   

He frowns. “Not for many miles, I think.” He looks down at her. “Why?”  

Sansa turns forward again, shifting in the saddle. She considers her words a moment, before answering. “I’d... like a bath,” she says finally, lip caught between her teeth.  

Jon chuckles behind her, his breath warm at the nape of her neck.  

She narrows her eyes. “And you could use one, too,” she quips.  

He coughs unexpectedly, the laugh petering out in his throat.  

She smiles to herself, unseen.  

They find water shortly before the sun sets, and Sansa climbs down from the horse eagerly, heading to the edge of the lake. She hesitates only momentarily, before the grime and dirt of the last several days overwhelms her, and after glancing back to make sure Jon has set camp far enough away from shore, she removes her travel dress and makes her way into the water.  

When she’s back at camp, as refreshed as she expects to be, clothed in the robe she fled King’s Landing in while her dress dries from washing along the tree branches, she catches the faint outline of Jon washing in the lake by twilight. It’s barely an outline of him, the high moon not yet full, and the lingering trail of the sun’s rays diminishing over the horizon rather quickly, but it’s enough.  

He’s become a man in the time she’s spent away from him. She realizes she should have known that by the beard that sometimes brushes her shoulder when they ride, and the rough, calloused hands that hold the reins at her waist, and the broad expanse of his shoulders that hold her weight when exhaustion overcomes her and she reluctantly leans back against him.  

But seeing him now, etched in twilight, far enough away to nearly be a mirage, she understands that the man who came for her is not the brother she said goodbye to all those years ago.  

He gave his life for the Watch, he’d said, and she still doesn’t know what that means, but she thinks she’s closer to the truth now, when she watches the curved line of his back peeking out from the water, when he turns, just slightly, and she can see the dark line of wounds or scars or... something along his chest.  

She’s closer to the truth when later that night, as they lay beside each other before the fire, and she glances over to him, he glances back without her ever needing to speak his name.   * * *

“How much longer?” she asks, shifting in the saddle, her thighs beginning to cramp.  

Jon grunts behind her in annoyance. “We’re almost there.”  

“That’s not an answer.”  

“You wouldn’t like the answer anyway,” he quips back.  

Sansa huffs, throwing a look over her shoulder at him.  

Jon rolls his eyes. “It’s almost a month from King’s Landing to Riverrun, and that’s just taking the main roads – which we’re not,” he explains.  

“I know,” she sighs.  

“Because we can’t risk you being spotted.”  

“I know.”  

Jon pulls the horse to a halt, peering at her over her shoulder. “It’s going to take longer if we keep stopping like this.”  

“I know, Jon,” she snaps turning in her seat before him as much as she can, her nose nearly bumping his. She stills at the sudden closeness.  

Jon pulls back just a touch, just enough to keep his gaze on hers.  

Her cheeks are pink, her mouth pursed tight.  

Jon licks his lips. “Are you tired?” he asks finally, his voice rough.  

Sansa’s eyes shift between his, her mouth opening and then closing. She turns away from him, facing forward once again. “I can weather it,” she manages, hands curling over the saddle horn.  

Jon stays staring at the back of her head. He sighs out. “If you’re tired...”  

“I’ll be fine,” she clips out.  

Jon frowns behind her.  

“I’ll not complain further,” she assures him, shoulders tight. A faint pink blush etches over the tops of her ears.  

Jon waits another moment to be certain of her, before urging the horse back into motion.  

She doesn’t speak for the remainder of the ride.   * * *

He notices something’s wrong when she becomes unusually quiet along the road the next day. He doesn’t comment on it, but keeps a steady eye on her. Her shoulders start slumping. There’s sweat along the back of her neck. Her hands grip the saddle horn tightly.  

“Sansa,” he says, never stopping their trot.  

“Hmm?” she answers, never looking back at him.  

“Are you alright?”  

She straightens somewhat. “I’m fine.”  

He watches her for many moments from his seat behind her, before stopping them without a word.  

She sighs, glancing back at him. “I’m fine,” she repeats, a censure to her words.  

But she’s not. And he knows this.  

Jon slips from the saddle, boots landing along the ground in a puff of dirt. “Come here,” he urges her, motioning her to get down from the saddle.  

She frowns down at him. “Honestly, Jon, I’m – ”  

“You’re not fine,” he clips out, hands going for her waist. “Come.”  

She reaches for his shoulders reluctantly, an admonishing glare sent his way. “Jon, it’s just – ”  

“You’re clammy,” he says, dragging her from the saddle, steadying her against his chest. “And weak. You’re not well.” He motions toward the fallen log beside their horse. “Come, sit. We’ll rest for a time.”  

Sansa grudgingly walks toward the log, a hand at her stomach, as Jon goes to tie the horse off along a nearby tree. When he turns back to her, he catches sight of the small patch of blood along the seat of her dress. He stills instantly.  

“Sansa,” he gets out on a croak.  

She settles along the log, arm wrapped around her middle, her shoulders hunched over. She looks up at him, a brow arched in question.  

He raises a finger to point dazedly. “You’re... bleeding.”  

Sansa gives him a perplexed look for a moment, before understanding passes over her features, and she nods quietly, eyes slipping closed as she wraps both arms around her stomach now. “My moon blood,” she says in explanation, a grimace accompanying it.  

Jon stays rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do to help.  

“Will you build a fire?” she asks then, glancing up at him. “Heat helps.”  

He moves into action immediately, starting the fire, and gathering blankets, settling them into their nightly routine well before they should have otherwise been doing so.  

The sun is still low over the trees when Sansa curls into a ball along the blankets, facing the fire, her eyes squeezed shut.  

Jon sits just behind her, setting the waterskin beside her, within reach. He leans back with a sigh, eyes roving her body. The words clog in his throat. “So, you’re...”  

Sansa opens her eyes, hands curling in the blanket wrapped around her. She looks over her shoulder at him. “I’m what?” she urges him.  

Jon wipes a hand over his mouth, suddenly regretting that he’s even begun this line of thinking, but it sits in his gut anyway, waiting for air. “You’re not with child, then,” he finishes finally, unable to meet her eyes.  

Sansa works her jaw, eyes shifting back to the fire. “My marriage to Tyrion was never consummated,” she tells him, the words clipped.  

He can’t smother the sigh of relief that escapes him at her words.  

She tugs the blanket closer.  

Jon reaches a hand to her shoulder. “I didn’t mean... I only meant to ask if...” His hand curls back, away from her shoulder.  

“You only meant to ask if I was still a threat to the North – if I carried a Lannister babe in my belly.”  

Jon sucks a sharp breath through his teeth. “Sansa, no, I – ”  

“You’ve nothing to worry about,” she bites out. “There may have been some... unwanted touches,” she manages through clenched teeth, her voice wavering, “But nothing more than that. I’m still a maiden, don’t worry. And not a threat to our family.”  

Jon shakes in his sudden wrath, unseen behind her. He rakes a hand through his hair, his chest heaving. “I’ll kill him,” he snarls lowly.  

Sansa stiffens at the sound, unable to look back at him.  

“I’ll kill him for even touching you,” he says vehemently.  

Sansa finally turns to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes are wide and unblinking. Her mouth opens, closes, opens again. “Jon.”  

Her voice seems to bring him back, seems to dull the haze that’s overcome him. He hushes her, a hand at her shoulder, turning her back to the fire, a brittle silence settling between them. They stay like this for many moments before she turns again, voice catching in her throat, “Jon – ”   

But then he’s settling into the space at her back, winding an arm around her waist, bracing her back against his chest.  

Sansa swallows tightly, eyes blinking furiously against the firelight. “What are you...?” she gets out shakily.  

“You said heat helps,” he answers into her shoulder, burrowing closer.

He doesn’t question this need. Doesn’t question this instinct to quell her pain. He only holds her. Firm and unrelenting.  

He holds her.  

And she lets him.  

#jonsa #jonsa fic #jon snow #sansa stark #no more scars #my writing #got fanfic #jon x sansa #also what the FUCK is going on with tumblr's formatting?? #this shit took ages longer to post than normal #dafuq

[sugarprincessbitch]

Yandere Ramsay Bolton x Half-Sister! Reader pt. 2

When the Bolton's took over the north and Ramsay reclaimed it's throne as his, the tensions between your house and the stark survivors grew each passing day.

Everything inside winterfell was a mess, terror reign between it's walls, her brother ruled there like a tyrant and nowadays it was a common occurrence to found at least one dead man, woman or children.

In a way, the imminent attack of the starks got Ramsay occupied and he didn't have the time to visit as frequent as before, a relief for you.

Since Claude was born, rumors started to arise about the father of the child.

Claude's similarities in appearance with Ramsay increase each passing day as he grew up, but the habitants of the castle were to afraid with the possible fury of the childs father if a word of it reaches his ears.

Since the announce of your pregnancy, you were relegated to your chambers in which the majority it you passed it trap in there, sewing and reading being your only activities to pass the time.

When you had Claude, some of your liberties where given back, but with the exception of not going outside by your own, Ramsay was breathing behind your neck these days.

You thought that now that you gave what Ramsay wanted, a male heir, he would stop tormenting you.

But it appears to be that the sight of you pregnant increased his libido, and one night he told you that he wouldn't stop until you gave him more children.

Since Claude was born, Ramsay began to visit you in your chambers at night again, because of the maester warning your brother about letting you repose some moons before trying again, he didn't pressure you to give him a second child.

Ramsay took many prisoners, being one of them Theon greyjoy or what Ramsay likes to call him, reek.

You didn't heard a lot of the young man, but clearly you can tell how Ramsay's wicked games change him.

Theon and the little girl Jane pool, that Ramsay took as his sexual plaything apart from Myranda- That woman scared you, if looks could kill, you surely will be dead by now- were the only ones to show you kindness.

When Jon snow attacked the castle, everything became pure caos.

You couldn't get to see what was happening beside from what was in display for you to see through the tiny window of your room.

Ramsay entered at your rooms agitated and with blood on his upper body. Without losing time he grabbed you by the hand and forcefully drag you out to the courtyard.

"Ramsay please wait! Claude, i have to get Claude!" He didn't listen to you, looking around like a mad man he didn't heard you so you repeat it again.

"Stop fucking blabbering! You are going to get on the fucking horse and get away from here" the desperate screams of your baby where rumbling on the castle walls, this time you push him harder and got away from his strong grip.

"YOU BI-" someone stumble Ramsay to the floor making he unable to finish the insult. The men's of Jon snow were pressing him to the ground while he start to force with the men and throwing empty threats to the air.

The stark bastard and his sister- if I remember correctly she was the first daughter, sansa- were waiting for us in the courtyard, for mi horror Claude was with them, in the arms of one of the maids.

I felt my knees going weaker and my heart thumping harder, scared of what they might do to my son. They first question Ramsay, he didn't change his agressive demeanour against them, even when the life of his son was at game.

Jon proceed to look at me and ask me to decide my fate, because Ramsay had his decided, the atrocities he did were unforgivable.

If I pledge loyalty to them, they would give back to me the lands of the Bolton and it's right, if I don't.... My body will lay with my brother in the morrow.

That day Ramsay was sentence to death, kill by his own dogs, the ones that he brag about their loyalty to him.

In the morning you started your way to your family castle, along with your son and the men left behind from that horrendous battle.

#ransay bolton #house bolton #fanfic #headcanon #game of thrones universe #yandere game of thrones #yandere ramsay x reader #ramday x reader #asioaf #house stark #jon snow #sansa stark

[lavaazul]

Are there any Jonsa au fanfics where all the Starks are alive or some of them?...

#jonsa #jon snow #sansa stark #sansa stark x jon snow #jon snow x sansa stark #jonsa stans #jonsa fics #jonsa fic #jonsa au fanfics

[welldonebeca]

The TV Show (1)

Summary: When they finally find a moment together, Jon invites Sansa to watch a TV show. They just keep getting distracted. Aka: Netflix and chill. They fuck in front of a TV. WC: 1.7k words Warnings: A little bit of Meta. Teasing. Sansa rants about House of the Dragon's costume design. Seduction. Degrading kink. Possessive Jon.

Masterlist

Jon invited Sansa to watch a TV show with him.

Robb and Theon were out, sleeping somewhere else, they were home alone, and after the fingering... situation, they needed a moment.

To talk.

And more.

The thing was... they didn't really know how to talk with one another.

It wasn't like they were friends or knew much about each other.

"Do you want popcorn?" Jon offered as she sat on the couch. "Any snack?"

"Those sweets would be nice," she asked, instead.

She was doing her classic cold shoulder, not too obvious but in her ladylike way of ignoring someone, only answering questions.

But she was always in her frilly nightie, with silk shorts and no underwear.

Just to make things easy if they came to it.

He came back with a bag of marshmallows and a bag of sweets, along with a can of her favourite soda, sitting by her side with his own chips and beer, and Sansa eyed her from her spot on the couch.

Jon hadn't tried to talk to her after leaving her room, not more than usual.

He didn't expect her to embrace him like they were the best of friends, right?

She eyed him up and down, reaching her hand to get the sweets when he sat down, but Jon held her out of his grip.

"Jon!"

"Not my fault you're seating across the couch," he shrugged, setting them between his thigh and the couch.

She pouted.

What a teasing jerk!

Jon patted the space by his side and she scooted a little closer, but she still couldn't reach for the sweets and her soda.

She would have to literally throw herself over his lap to get her soda.

Sansa tried to reach for it, and Jon suddenly decided to be even more of a jerk and hold it at a distance away, and she smacked him on the side of his head.

"Fine," she decided, and seated back on her seat, crossing her arms. "I don't want it anymore."

He laughed.

"Gods, you're so easy to tease," he scoffed, picking up her soda and giving it to her, and then the sweets. "There, princess."

She scowled, but opened the bag, picking up a marshmallow and eating it as he picked the remote.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked.

She frowned a little.

"Well, you invited me," she reminded him.

He shook his head.

"You don't like the stuff I watch," Jon pointed out.

She gasped.

"Yes, I do! As long as it is not too crude or violent, I'm alright with it."

He shook his head, and she waited as he roamed through HBO Max.

"Well," he sighed. "There's this show..."

Sansa raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. What, did Jon think she wouldn't like a nice TV show?

"It's about the age of dragons," he told her. "And my family."

She perked up.

His family?!

Jon was a Targaryen, at least on his father's side. As far as she knew, he didn't have a lot of contact with him, but his family was loaded. Probably the oldest money in existence in Westeros and Essos.

They were kings and queens once, dominating the world before the other continents were discovered, and had dragons.

The coolest thing her family had ever had in the past were direwolves.

The Targaryens were loaded these days.

She was surprised a TV show about them was even allowed to exist.

"Did your family produce it?" she asked.

They had to, right? It was their history, after all.

Jon chuckled, looking a little unsure.

"I don't think I'm even allowed to talk about that TV show," he confessed.

Sansa looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed.

"Well, my uncle emailed me," he told her. "And we are not supposed to give out any statements about the show."

She stared for a moment.

The age of the dragons was half a thousand years ago. Who would even care to link it to the current Targaryens?

"Statements?" she asked, anyway.

"No tweeting, no live-streaming, no comments... no words, at all," he told her. "Not even to our friends."

Oh.

He scowled a little.

"Don't think about it. My dad's family is just... yeah, they are... yeah."

Yeah, she got it.

"But I heard the show is good," he said simply. "And no one said I couldn't watch it and pretend I do not descend from those weirdos."

Sansa giggled.

"Well, you could be a prince, technically," she pointed out. "I'm sure that's not bad."

He rolled his eyes a bit.

"I've only seen my father on television and in magazines, Sansa," he told her. "The only reason I even know he is my father is that they did a DNA test when I was a kid, right after my mother died. All he did was pay child support to my godfather and give me a college fund, and that was it. I doubt that is very princely."

She deflated.

Oh.

She knew Jon's mother - her aunt Lyanna - had died when he was young, and he didn't have contact with his father, but that was far harsher than what she thought their relationship was like.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I didn't know."

He was so negative, though. He was still his son, right? And the son of a prince or king was also a prince.

She imagined him as a prince, though. Wearing nice clothes, not his old black t-shirt - the one he always wore and said it was clean but never seemed to be. Maybe he would wear his curls back, and she would be able to see his face and not just his hair.

Jon pressed play, and she sat back, falling into a comfortable silence as a blond woman flew in her dragon.

Oh, it was a huge dragon.

She always imagined how big they would be. History books mentioned sizes but they were always so different, and never gave her a perspective.

"Cool," she whispered under her breath.

The girl really did look the young Rhaenyra she saw in the books - a painting of her when she was declared heir of the Iron Throne. Before shit went down.

A Dragon Princess, filled with elegance and beauty.

How she envied that vision.

... but what the fuck was the costume department doing?

"Is she wearing a bra?" she asked, unable to keep that to herself.

Jon turned to her, confused.

"Sorry, what?"

She moved over to him, taking the remote from his hand and rewinding.

"I mean, probably?" he asked, confused. "What are you doing?"

"Well, she is not supposed to," she glared at him.

Jon squinted.

"It's just a show, Sansa."

She moved closer to him.

"That's a show about the age of the dragons, Jon," she reminded him. "It's not just a show."

He looked so confused.

"Okay, so," she sat up straighter, pausing the show. "During the age of dragons, there were rules for clothes!"

Jon shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure it is not even supposed to be historically accurate!"

"Doesn't it bother you?" she exclaimed.

It was a show about his family! His ancestors!

"Sansa, please," he sighed, laughing.

She pouted, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, what is wrong, then?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I don't see anything wrong with her dress."

"The dress is alright," she argued. "It's her underwear a have a problem with."

Jon simply watched and she sighed, standing up.

"Look at me," she requested, moving and turning on the light.

He followed her with his eyes, and Sansa stood in front of him.

"You know corsets, right?" she asked. "The whole body thing."

Jon nodded.

"Well, the stays came before them," she explained. "They are made to cover the whole torso, like a vest. It keeps your posture straight, and it's like a rigid shirt."

She moved her hand over her torso, showing it to him.

"They don't squeeze, but they give you a shape," she told him. "And she-"

Sansa walked to the TV, and pointed at Rhaenyra.

"She doesn't have a shape."

Jon blinked a little, not looking at her face, and Sansa looked down.

Her nightie had slipped off. Her tit was hanging out.

Sansa’s face burned red and she fixed her clothes quickly.

"I-" she tried to speak.

"Well, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he joked. "And a much nicer view than my ancestors."

She flushed, and he crooked his finger, calling her closer.

Sansa stood between his legs, looking down at him, and Jon put his hand on her hips.

"You wrapped yourself all in silk for me," he caressed her skin under her clothes.

She adjusted herself, trying not to look affected.

"I like this nightie," she said simply.

He smirked.

"So it wasn't for me?" he tugged on her nightie, making it slide down again.

He raised a hand to her chest and pinched her nipple, and Sansa squirmed.

"Are you sure?" he insisted, nearly mocking her.

Her cheeks burned more and Sansa almost stepped back, but he held her in place.

"I like how you look when you are that passionate," he told her. "My little costume designer."

His?

Jon moved his hand down, caressing her thigh.

"Were you this passionate about learning to rub your pretty clit?" he pushed his fingers up her shorts, and Sansa couldn't even clench her thighs together before he was right on the edge of her apex.

She didn't quite want to, you know?

"About how to please your sweet cunt?" he moved his thumb to her mound, and stopped.

She wasn't wearing underwear, and now he knew it.

He pulled her to his lap quickly, kissing her lips hungrily as he pushed his fingers into her hair, tugging on it, making her head fall to the side as he moved his lips down her skin.

"Silly little girl," he mocked, pushing her shorts to the side.

Sansa gasped when she felt his caressing her folds.

She was already wet, for some reason.

"You're so easy to turn on," he chuckled. "Just a little teasing and that pussy is already leaking."

Sansa whimpered and tried to follow his fingers, but he pinched her clit.

No, this wasn't how it was supposed to go!

"Jon," she whined. "Wait."

He pulled back quickly, looking surprised but taking his hands away anyway.

"I learned something," she whispered, embarrassed.

Jon sat up straighter, and she pulled his hands back to her legs.

Sansa had been reading.

She liked reading, a lot.

And watching things.

Jon squinted.

"What did you learn?"

. . .

"The TV Show" was posted on my Patreon on March! To read it before anyone else - and the sequel "Screamer", subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​​ @amythyststorm33​​​ @shaelyn102​​​ @yknott81​​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​​ @kgbrenner​​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​​ @magpiegirl80​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @shadowhunter7​​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​​ @deemoriarty​​​ @05spn18​​​ @malindacath​​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​​ @widowsfics​​​ @frozenhuntress67​​​ @averyrogers83​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @giruvega Game of Thrones tags: @izbelross Jonsa Tags: @cosmic-darikano

#keeping up with the targaryens series #jonsa #jonsa fic #jon snow #actually jonsa #sansa stark #jonsa fanfiction #jonsa smut #jon snow x sansa stark smut #welldonebeca's kuwtt series #jon snow x sansa stark #jon snow x sansa stark fic #jon snow x sansa stark fanfic #sansa stark x jon snow #sansa stark x jon snow fanfiction #sansa stark x jon snow fanfic #sansa stark x jon snow fic #sansa stark x jon snow smut

[hd-junglebook]

From Beyond The Wall

Part 1

The wind begins to howl mournfully, swirling snowflakes dancing in the air like lost spirits. The mountain remained still as night began to fall, leaving the brothers of the nights watch in the darkness of the north.

The fire crackles weakly, struggling against the encroaching cold, casting long shadows that flicker and dance across the frozen ground.

"Can you feel it, Jon?" one brother mutters, his teeth chattering as he huddles closer to the feeble warmth.

"A storm's coming. I can smell it in the air." Jon, his cloak pulled tight around him, nods solemnly. "Aye, a blizzard's upon us. We'll need to find better shelter if we're to survive the night."

In the cover of darkness beyond the glow of the fire, Y/n and her group lurk like shadows, their breath forming wisps of vapor in the frigid air. Ygritte, her fiery hair barely visible in the dim light, leans in close to Y/n, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We strike now, while they're weak and unprepared," she says, her blue eyes gleaming with determination. "We'll catch them by surprise, before the blizzard engulfs us all."

Y/n nods, her fingers tightening around the reins of her white horse, its breath steaming in the cold night air. "Agreed. Move on my signal.”

Y/n continue to watch in silence, glancing between the brothers and the free folk. She nodded to Ygritte, grasping her bow from the leather pouch. Y/n and her group emerge from the darkness, the crunch of snow beneath their boots muffled by the howling wind.

The brothers of the Night's Watch startle at the sudden onslaught, scrambling for their weapons as Y/n's group descends upon them like a winter storm unleashed.

"Take no prisoners!" Ygritte's voice rings out above the chaos, her bow singing as she looses arrow after arrow into the heart of the fray. the blizzard finally descends in full force, swallowing the scene in a swirling white blanket of snow and ice.

After a few minutes of the bloody onslaught Jon realizes his efforts were pointless as he is now surrounded.

Confused and heaving out heavy breaths he looks around to grasp his situation. He pauses mid turn at the sight of Y/n dismounting her horse gracefully, still holding her bow.

“Hold.” she raises her hand, signaling for them to hold their fire. The clash of swords and the cries of men fade into the background as Jon's gaze meets hers, his eyes locked on her figure clad in a fur cloak and a dress as white as the snow.

She approaches Jon with purpose, her footsteps leaving shallow imprints in the fresh snow. The wind tugs at her cloak, sending strands of hair swirling around her face like tendrils of shadow.

“Who are you?” he mumbles out, trying to find the words. He raises his hands slowly, his eyes flicking between Y/n and the members of her group surrounding him.

Y/n's lips curl into a confident smile as she keeps her arrow trained on Jon. "I am Y/n, Princess of the Free Folk," she declares, her voice ringing out clear despite the howling wind.

Jon's eyes widen in surprise at her proclamation, a flicker of realization dawning in his expression. He lowers his hands slowly, his gaze never leaving Y/n's face. "Princess of the Free Folk," he repeats, as if testing the words on his tongue.

Y/n nods, her grip tightening on her bow. "Indeed. And now, I command you to throw down your weapon and stand," she orders, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Jon hesitates for a moment, his gaze darting between Y/n and the looming figures of her group. But then, with a resigned sigh, he unclasps his sword belt and lets it fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

He stands tall, meeting Y/n's gaze, she studies Jon Snow intently as he stands before her, his demeanor composed despite the circumstances. "And who are you, truly?" Y/n asks, her voice softened but still firm.

Jon's gaze remains fixed on her, his expression unreadable behind the mask of snowflakes that cling to his beard. "I am Jon Snow, a brother of the Night's Watch," he replies. A laugh escapes her at the name. “Mhmm snow. You’re a Stark. Ned Starks bastard son.”

Hearing her call his name and addressing him as a Stark made his heart skip a beat. Yet he remained cautious, seeing how easily the wildings obeyed her. “I am…How did you know?” he asked, as he slowly took a step back.

“It’s not me who knows, its my brother. what business does the Night's Watch have this far beyond the Wall? Us wildings? White walkers?” He nods to both causing her to sigh.

Y/n turns to her companions, her gaze sweeping over them with authority. "Tie him up. We're bringing him home," she commands, her voice firm and resolute.

He is stunned by her order, his body freezes still where he stands. The wildlings nod in silent acknowledgment, swiftly moving to obey Y/n's orders.

They bind Jon Snow's hands tightly with rope, ensuring he poses no immediate threat as they prepare to escort him back to their camp.

Y/n's eyes then find Ygritte, who stands nearby, her bow at the ready. "Ygritte, you'll watch him from now on," Y/n instructs, her voice carrying a note of trust.

"Make sure he doesn't try anything foolish." They hand the rope to Ygritte, who accepts it with a nod of gratitude.

With a swift motion, she mounts her horse, her cloak billowing behind her like a banner of authority. As she settles into the saddle, her eyes meet Jon's, and there's a flicker of something unspoken between them, a tension that crackles in the frigid air like lightning.

"Let's go," she commands, her voice cutting through the howling wind. "We have to make it back before dawn."

Jon's heart races as he watches her, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her. A sudden chill runs through his back, he struggles against his restraints, approaching your horse slowly. “You really won’t say anything, huh? Just going to tie me up and drag me with you.”

Y/n meets his gaze, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. “That’s how I like my men, Snow.” She stated with a devious grin. A cold look appears on his face immediately realizing what she meant by those words. Yet all he can do is be silent and follow behind you, keeping up as his body is pushed every which way by the pelting snow.

…

They finally reach the Wildling camp, Y/n dismounts her horse with a graceful ease and gives her horse a gentle pat on the neck, murmuring words of gratitude as she glances toward the towering big tent that serves as the heart of their encampment.

The women of the camp emerged from their makeshift shelters, their laughter and chatter filling the air as they danced with their children under the fading light of the day.

Giants lumbered about, their massive forms silhouetted against the twilight sky as they worked alongside the Free Folk, tending to the needs of the camp with quiet efficiency.

With a nod to Ygritte, who stands by Jon Snow's side with a watchful gaze, Y/n orders, "Bring the crow with you." she takes hold of Jon's arm, guiding him towards the tent alongside her.

Pushing open the flap of the tent, Y/n steps inside, the warmth of the fire within enveloping her like a comforting embrace.

Ygritte and Jon enter behind her, Y/n's gaze sweeps over the assembled group, taking in the familiar faces of her companions, as well as the curious glances directed towards their captive.

“Oh dear brother. I have a gift.” Mance, ever the troubadour, sat in a corner, his fingers strumming a haunting melody on his lute, the notes drifting through the air like whispers on the wind, weaving a tale of a Dornish woman's forbidden love.

He departs from his pregnant wife’s side. "What's this?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over Ygritte, Rattleshirt, and the newcomer with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "A crow?"

“Ygritte found the crow, Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell!” she introduced. “Release him.” With a collective nod, Ygritte moves to obey, her hands deftly untying the ropes that bind Jon's wrists before pushing him forward.

Mance's piercing blue eyes fix on Jon, assessing him with a shrewd intensity. "A crow," he remarks, his voice low and measured. "What brings you so far beyond your Wall?"

Jon meets Mance's gaze with a steady stare, his jaw set with determination. "I seek answers," he replies, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. "Answers about the darkness that threatens to engulf us all."

Mance nods thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. "And what answers do you hope to find here, among the Free Folk?"

Jon's gaze flickers with resolve as he speaks. "I seek allies," he declares, his voice ringing out clear and strong. "Allies in the fight against the true enemy, the Night King and his army of the dead."

A murmur ripples through the gathered Wildlings at Jon's words, their faces reflecting a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. Mance, however, remains impassive, his gaze fixed on Jon with a calculating intensity.

"Allies," he repeats, his voice echoing in the tense silence of the tent. "The Night's Watch and the Free Folk, united against a common foe. A bold proposition, Jon Snow. But one that may yet prove to be our salvation."

…

The conversation with Mance concludes and the orders are given, Y/n watches as Ygritte leads Jon Snow and his direwolf away from the tent.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n turns away, her steps leading her back to her own tent. She sheds her fur cloak with a weary grace, allowing it to fall to the ground as she settles onto the floor, her legs crossed beneath her.

Closing her eyes, Y/n takes a deep breath, centering herself before allowing her mind to drift into the depths of warging. As her consciousness expands, she feels the pull of the nearby animals, their instincts calling out to her in the darkness.

With a gentle push, Y/n's spirit leaves her body, merging with that of a nearby fox. She feels the rush of freedom as she darts through the snow-covered landscape, her senses heightened by the wildness of her new form.

She approaches the bodies of the fallen Black Brothers, a sudden movement jolts her back to reality. The fox springs back in fear, its eyes locking with those of a figure rising from the snow.

Y/n's heart pounds in her chest as she stares into the ice-blue eyes of the reanimated corpse. The corpse lunges forward as it reaches out with cold dead hands.

With a burst of speed, the fox races southward, its breath coming in ragged gasps as it flees from the looming threat. Y/n's eyes snap open abruptly, her breath coming out raggedly as she sits up. She dons her fur cloak once more, the fabric billowing around her like a protective barrier against the biting cold.

Rushing from her tent, Y/n heads straight for Mance, her footsteps quick and purposeful in the snow. She finds him surrounded by his advisors, deep in conversation about their next move. "Mance, we need to leave now," Y/n declares, her voice urgent as she approaches him.

Mance turns to her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "We've just arrived at our camp. Surely we can afford to rest for a while."

But Y/n shakes her head adamantly, her eyes flashing with determination. "No, Mance. We can't afford to stay here any longer, thinking about Dalla" she insists, her voice unwavering.

Mance studies her for a moment, weighing her words carefully. But then, with a resigned sigh, he nods in reluctant agreement. "Very well, Y/n," he concedes, "We'll leave in a few days."

…

Y/n stood before the gathered clans, her hair blowing in the biting gusts as she surveyed the uneasy faces staring back at her.

"As you know, the white walkers arise once more from the dead," she called out, her voice carrying over the murmurs that rippled through the crowd. "As your Princess, I swear to lead you safely to the Wall."

She continued, her tone firm, "My brother has brought together the Free Folk like no one has before." Gesturing to Mance, who stood with his wife behind her, she emphasized, "But winter is coming—the harshest in memory. The dead will rise to join the White Walkers' army. They will not wait for spring!"

The truth of her words sank in among the Free Folk, glances exchanged as the severity of the situation settled upon them. Mance stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"The princess speaks true," he declared, his voice carrying authority. "The Wall is our only refuge against the storm. We must begin the march at once... before it is too late."

Agreement murmured through the clans, and Y/n nodded gratefully to Mance. Drawing her furs tighter against the cold, she caught sight of Jon Snow, his gaze meeting hers for a fleeting moment before flickering away.

…

In the wake of her stirring speech, preparations for the journey to the Wall began in earnest. The clans bustled with activity, packing supplies, sharpening weapons, and tending to their families in anticipation of the arduous trek ahead.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silvery light over the rugged landscape, and the distant howls of wolves echoed through the valleys.

It was there, in the quiet stillness of the night, that Y/n encountered her brother's pregnant wife once more. She stood alone, her silhouette outlined against the moonlit horizon, a solitary figure in the darkness.

"Are you all right?" Y/n asked softly as she turned to face her, her expression unreadable in the dim light. Y/n walked closer to where she was standing, her boots crunching on the frozen ground. "I'm fine," she replied curtly.

Y/n studied her for a moment, sensing the weight of her burden in the lines of her face and the tension in her shoulders. There was a distance between them, a chasm that seemed insurmountable.

"I wanted to thank you," Y/n said earnestly, breaking the silence that hung heavy between them. "For standing with me back there. Your support means more to me than you know."

Her gaze softened, a flicker of warmth in the depths of her eyes. "You don't have to thank me," she replied, her voice gentle. "We're in this together, whether we like it or not." There was a moment of quiet understanding between them as they stood together beneath the starlit sky.

…

give me some feedback, i'd like to know if this sucks lol

#fluff #angst #masterlist #new writers on tumblr #new fic #wildlings #free folk #asoiaf #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #jon snow #robb stark x reader #robb stark fanfic #robb stark #theon greyjoy #sansa stark #arya stark #ned stark #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned x catelyn #jon snow x oc #house stark #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones x you

[lovebaela]

THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH

Chapter 1: A New Life

masterlist l next

(a/n) hello! I decided to restart my “Ice and Fire” fanfaction because I have so much more ideas for a better story :) even though it’s discontinued, if you would like to check it out here’s the masterlist! I hope you guys will enjoy this one 🤍 I’m working on the masterlist for this series right now!

Divider credit: @dingusfreakhxrrington @valeskafics

°❆⋆Bran Stark x Targaryen OC .ೃ࿔*:･ CW: fem!oc, betrothal (forced marriage), topics of abuse and racism, angst, a lot of fluff, smut (I’ll try lol), and murder.꙳·❅°*˖ Rating: Mature audiences - The mature moments will happen later on. In the beginning, it will mostly just be cute fluff.⋆⁺₊❅.

Why must the gods be so cruel to me? What could I have possibly done to deserve this life? To be sold off like a slave by my own flesh and blood…I’ll never forgive Viserys. Without Dany, I am alone. Without love. I want to go home. But…where do I belong? The summer isles? No, that can’t be my true home, I never had the chance to live there. Do I belong anywhere?

Daughter of the mad king’s younger brother. Rhaella never knew her mother. She died after giving birth in the Summer Isles, killed by assassins under the command of the new king, Robert Baratheon. When he found out Rhaella’s mother was pregnant, he wanted both of them dead. Rhaella was smuggled out of the isles and sent to her cousins, the last Targaryens.

“I know you’re upset,” Lord Eddard Stark said, placing his hand on top of hers.“But please, believe me when I say this. I will never let anyone harm you. You are under my protection now.”

Rhaella gave him a weak smile back. Rhaella, the same name as the Mad King’s sister and wife. Daenerys gave her the name. Viserys despised the idea of his mother’s name given to the likes of a foreign girl. Even though she was still a Targaryen, he only considered her half and not pure. She took after her mother, with more summer isle features. Her skin wasn’t pale, instead, a light amber and tan that would get even darker in the sun. She had long silver curly hair, unlike her cousins who had straight silver blonde hair. The thing Rhaella hated the most was her eyes. Instead of being a pretty violet color, she had dark purple eyes that almost looked black.

Rhaella looked away from the carriage window to make eye contact with Lord Stark, “My Lord?” She asked, “Why did you accept my cousin’s offer to take me?”

“Well, you see,” he explained, “The rebellion caused great loss for everyone. So many people, loved ones, dead. Especially your family, unfortunately. I’ll never forgive him for his order of murder. When the king found out 3 Targaryens were still out in the world, he wanted you all dead. I wanted to prove to him that even though Areys was mad, that doesn’t mean you all don’t deserve to live. By taking you in and marrying one of my sons, we can show him that you are not our enemies. It took him a while to be fully convinced, but he agreed to let you live.”

”But, my eldest cousin,” Rhaella said. “He…he wants to take the seven kingdoms. I’m not sure how, but that is his plan.”

”I highly doubt he is a true threat,” Lord Stark said.

”you’re right,” she admitted. “He can be a big coward at times.”

That comment made him chuckle.

He has a nice smile, very warm and welcoming. Even though he did come off as cold before.

“Will I have to marry now?” Rhaella asked.

“Oh gods no!” He chuckled, “you are far too young, my son as well.”

“Will he like me?”

“I believe so, you have nothing to worry about. Bran is a good kid. He will treat you right.”

Once they made it through the gates, the carriage stopped. Lord Stark exited first so he could get the door for Rhaella. He gently held her hand as she took her steps down. Once Rhaella looked up from the steps, she saw the Stark family before her. Not letting go of her hand, Lord Stark approached his family to introduce their special guest.

“This is Rhaella Targaryen. As you all know, she will be with us now. Treat her as you would treat each other. If anyone disrespects her, let me know.”

They all nodded. A very handsome older boy approached her, “Hello, my lady, I am Robb,” he told her, “I hope you enjoy Winterfell and welcome!” Before walking away, he kissed her hand. That made Rhaella blush, “T-Thank you.” He had blue eyes and dark auburn hair. It was so dark you could barely tell if it was red. He had to have been the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen.

An older girl walked up to her gracefully, “Hello,” she smiled, “my name is Sansa. I hope we can grow to be like sisters! Maybe even brush each other’s hair, make dresses together, and so much more!” Rhaella gave a slight smile back, “I would love that!” Then a girl, who looked not too older than her, approached saying, “My name is Arya! Don’t worry, we don’t have to do girly stuff together. There are other ways to have fun!”

Then, she met Rickon, the youngest in the family, and their mother Lady Stark. “Oh my goodness,” she exclaimed, “aren't you just a lovely thing? Such a beauty.” Rhaella blushed at the compliment, thanking her.

She must be lying to me. I mean, just look at me! The journey to Westeros was so long that hair became wild and poofy.

”You must be frightened,” Lady Stark said. “Trust me, I never favored the cold myself. I still don’t, but you grow to appreciate it.”

Rhaella couldn’t keep her eyes off Lady Catelyn Stark’s features. Like Robb and Sansa, she had long auburn hair and pretty blue eyes. Her gown was also blue, making her eyes stand out even more.

“Where is Bran?” Lord Stark asked his wife.

“I told that boy to stop climbing,” she explained. “Brandon!”

“Sorry mother!” A voice yelled from above, “I’m coming down!”

When Rhaella looked up, she examined him. He looked to be the same age as her. He had dark brown hair and eyes with freckles on his face. He approached her and bowed, “Welcome to Winterfell, I hope you will take a liking to it.” “Thank you,” she replied.

The atmosphere quickly grew awkward. The two children didn’t know what to say to each other.

Lady Stark took Rhaella’s hand, “You must be exhausted, here, come with me.” She guided Rhaella to her bed chamber and had the handmaidens start a bath. After the bath, she laid on her bed for a quick nap.

After waking up, the handmaidens helped her get into a gown for dinner. The dress was purple with roses embroidered across the neckline. Then, they helped her with her hair. They clearly did not know what they were doing. They aren’t used to doing curly hair like Rhaella’s, but they managed to make something of it. They brushed out her curls, putting them in a half-up-half-down style. The ponytail was braided and put into a bun. After the handmaidens left the room, she looked at herself in the mirror.

I don’t even look like myself anymore.

Tears began to fill her eyes, I just want to go home.

She bolted out of the room, not knowing where she was going. She ran outside the big castle but didn’t dare to leave outside the castle walls. She eventually found an area that stood out to her. The whole vibe was strange as if something or someone was watching her. It was nothing but an old forest with no snow. In the middle of it, was a pool and a tree. A tree she’d never seen before. The huge tree was white with red leaves and a face carved into it. She stared deeply into the tree’s eyes for a while.

Is it staring back at me?

She snapped out of it, shaking her head, and climbed up the tree to sit on a huge branch.

Without Daenerys, I am lost. She didn’t know how long she’d been crying in the tree for, but she didn’t care. Winterfell wasn’t her home.

“Rhaella?” She heard a voice ask.

When she looked up, she saw Bran with a concerned look on his face, “w-why are you crying?”

She wiped her tears. “Sorry, I just miss my sister…how did you know I’d be here?”

“I like to go to the godswood, and climb up this tree,” he said. “Whenever I like to be alone and think. I’m sorry you had to leave your sister.”

“Well, she isn’t my sister, not really,” she admitted, wiping her face. “We are actually cousins. We just call each other sisters.”

He sat next to her, “my family was worried about you. They thought you might have ran away.” He nervously chuckled. “I…I know that we are to be married one day. The idea of marriage scares me.”

She doesn’t respond, only looking down at her hands as she fidgets with them. “I have something for you,” Bran showed her a beautiful blue flower. “That was the reason I was climbing.” He told her. “I wanted to give you something as a gift. I was going to give it to you at the dinner table but here. If I hurt your feelings not being there to greet you, I’m so sorry.” Rhaella took the flower and sniffed it.

“It’s called the winter rose,” he continued. “A rare flower that can grow around the castle.”

“It’s so beautiful,” she smiled. “Thank you.”

”You know, just because we’re betrothed doesn’t mean we have to be in love right now or anything,” he said. “Let’s just be friends!”

”Yeah I’d like that!” She said.

”And just so you know,” he whispered. “I liked your hair better before. Your curly hair is much better.”

She laughed, “You and me both.”

”You’re laughing!”

”So?”

”This is your first time laughing here,” he said. “You have a nice smile.”

”Thanks, Bran,” she said. “You know, my eldest cousin ,Viserys, told me and Dany that you guys were evil monsters. But, you guys aren’t monstrous at all!”

Before Bran could respond, they both hear a voice from down below calling for Bran. An older boy who looked the same age as Robb. He was very handsome with black curls and dark eyes. “I found her Jon!” Bran shouted.

”Well, what are you sitting around for? They are all waiting for you two!” The two of them climbed down from the tree and walked with Jon.

“Forgive me, my name is Jon Snow,” he told Rhaella. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

”I never heard of the last name ‘snow’ before,” she confessed.

Bran began to explain, ”That last name actually means he’s a…well—”

”Bastard.” Jon said. His voice was cold and somber.

”I don’t know what that means,” Rhaella said. “But Viserys called me that sometimes, I assumed as an insult.”

”It means that my father, Lord Stark, had me with another woman. I wanted to meet you when you arrived, but Lady Stark thought it would be disrespectful.”

Rhaella couldn’t help but feel awful for him. There was something about Jon Snow that made him stand out. As if they had a connection. She wondered if Jon felt it too.

“You said that Viserys called us evil,” Bran said. “Then why did he want to send you away to us?”

“He hates me,” she answered. “He saw you guys as an opportunity to get rid of me…”

Once they all made it to the dining hall, all eyes were on Rhaella and Bran. “Well, aren’t you just beautiful?” Catelyn smiled. “Please, have a seat.” Bran escorted her to her chair and went back to his. Before Jon could leave the Hall, Rhaella asked, “Can Jon eat with us please?”

”Ah, I see you met him while you were gone,” Lord Stark said, amused. “Would him eating with us please you?”

Rhaella looked over at Jon, whose eyes lightened up. She looked back at Lord Stark and gave a nod. He looked over at Lady Stark, “What do you say?”

She looked into Rhaella’s sparkling eyes and sighed, “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…”

Rhaella gave a big smile. Jon pulled a chair next to her whispering, “Thank you Rhaella.”

“I hope you like the dress,” Sansa said. “I made it myself! I wanted to test my embroidery skills and decided to make you one!”

“It’s beautiful,” Rhaella told her. “You should teach me!” Sansa nodded gleefully.

“You know, we all thought you ran off and escaped!” Arya laughed.

“I…I didn’t mean any trouble or offense, I apologize.” Rhaella announced, standing up from her chair and bowing her head. “It was rude of me.”

“No,” Lord Stark said. “You have every right to feel the way you do. Your life changed right before your eyes. But please, believe me when I say this, we are here for you.”

“Aye.” Robb agreed. “If you are having trouble with anyone or anything let us know.” She thanked the both of them for their kindness.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was it like outside of Westeros?” Catelyn asked.

Rhaella told them everything. Even about the abuse Viserys had done to her. He always yelled at her for the littlest things. The worst thing he ever did was sneak into her bedchamber with a knife. He threatened to cut out her insides if she didn’t cooperate with his plan to send her to the North.

They all had concerned looks on their faces. The abuse never got to her until explaining it out loud. She really did have it rough.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Arya said. “You are with us now!”

“Safe and sound,” Sansa added.

Rhaella didn’t realize she was smiling.

”So, Rhaella…you said you were from the Summer Isles right?” Theon asked.

“Yes, why you ask?”

He smirked at Robb before asking, “I heard the women there are quite breathtakingly beautiful?” She could have sworn she heard him whisper “and have nice bodies.”

”Well, I’ve never actually stayed there, I had to flee because of the King,” she explained. “But from the books I’ve read and from what I heard from some servants in Pentos, yes, the women there are quite beautiful.”

”I also heard that they have a passion for love making,” he said. “Maybe I gotta visit there sometime-.”

”Theon!” Lady Stark snapped. “Don’t be disrespectful-.”

”Oh that’s okay!” Rhaella reassured her. “You’re right, Theon! They do have a passion for it. If I were to stay in the Isles, I would have been a prostitute myself!”

Sansa and Lady Stark almost choked on their food, as Robb, Theon, and Jon bursted out laughing at the table. She didn’t understand what was so funny, but she laughed along with them.

”What’s a prostitute?” Rickon asked, innocently. That made the boys start crying from laughter. Theon even fell out of his chair.

”Y-You’ll know when you’re older!” Lady Stark said.

”You’ll fit in with us just fine, child,” Lord Stark said. “Welcome to the family!”

°❀⋆Daenerys.ೃ࿔*:･

Daenerys never felt more lonely. She missed Rhaella, her real family. She’d never forgive her brother for what he did.

“Daenerys!” Viserys shouted.

He entered her bed chamber, “do not tell me you’re still upset about that savage.”

She felt rage enter her body as he said those words. “She is not a savage, she’s my sister,” she replied softly. “And I don’t understand why you sent her to our enemies.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he said. “We both know that’s not true. She’s our cousin. Daughter of our uncle and whatever foreign whore he married. She’s not a pure Targaryen like us, Dany. And she never will be. I gave her away because we need allies, even if they are enemies. The Starks are a strong house, and I knew that Lord Stark would gladly take her in. The fool won’t even know of my plans to destroy him and his dear friend Robert.”

Daenerys always considered Rhaella her sister, even if it wasn’t true. They spent all of their time together, never leaving one’s side. It felt like it was yesterday, the day Rhaella arrived in Braavos as a baby. Viserys wanted nothing to do with her while Daenerys cherished her. She had no idea why Viserys was so upset about naming their cousin after their mother. It was only a name after all. She always thought it was much deeper than Rhaella being a “savage.” She never dared to ask him though.

“I have good news.” He announced. She examined his face, his grin looked devious. Truly it wasn’t good news. “I found you a husband,” he said. “His name is Khal Drogo, Magister Illyrio said. A Dothraki savage. When you two wed, I’ll have his army. We can finally go home, sweet sister.”

Home.

All she ever wanted was a home. A home with Rhaella, where they could finally be happy together. With her gone, Daenerys wasn’t sure if it would be home without her.

“And what about her?” She asked him.

“The savage?” He scoffed. “Those Starks have her now. I don’t care what they do to her. As long as we have our alliance with the North.”

Daenerys wanted to cry, but she stayed strong. I will meet her again, one day.

°❆⋆Bran ೃ࿔*:･

It had only been a couple of months, but for Bran, it felt like he had known Rhaella his whole life. Rhaella also grew close to his sisters but mostly Arya. The three of them were inseparable. Rhaella even taught them some of the Valyrian language. Some nights, the three of them would stay up and read history books about Targaryen history until they got caught by the Septa. For fun, they liked to go sledding and have snowball fights. The older Stark boys and Rickon joined them sometimes, but never Sansa. Ever since Rhaella arrived, Sansa and Arya fought less. It’s like wherever she went, she spread joy. That’s one of the traits Bran liked about her.

Now, everyone is preparing for the arrival of the King.

He overheard his father saying that the King was almost there. Bran felt sorry for Rhaella because she was so stressed out. “What will he do to me?” She asked. He always reassured her, “You are under our protection now, the King approved of you. Don’t worry about a thing.”

At that moment, it was time for Bran to practice his archery. He hasn’t been getting any better. He wanted to show his family he could hit the bull’s eye. First, only Robb was watching him. Then, came Jon and Rickon. Before he knew it, his parents came to watch as well.

“Keep practicing, Bran,” Lord Stark insisted. “Go on.”

Jon leaned in towards Bran, placing his hand on his shoulder, “Alright, father is watching.”

Jon looks over and sees Rhaella and Arya watching as well, “and her…” he whispered.

Bran took a deep gulp. He didn’t like to get teased about Rhaella. They only do it because we are to be married. We are just friends, good friends.

Bran nodded and started to aim his bow and arrow at his target.

“Relax your bow arm…” Robb commented.

Just before Bran could release the arrow, someone else’s hits the target and another shoots right through it.

All of the boys turned their heads to see Rhaella and Arya giggling. “Hey!” Bran yelled. The girls both curtseyed but quickly took off once they saw Bran chasing them. The kids kept on playing until their father took all of the boys to see an execution. Bran was finally old enough to see one.

“Are you scared?” Rhaella asked him as he was mounting his pony.

“I’m not sure.” He answered honestly.

But I can’t be afraid. My father told me I won’t be a boy forever. I’ll be a man-grown soon. I mustn’t be afraid. I need to be brave. Like Robb and Jon. Wolves are never afraid.

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

#bran stark #bran stark x reader #asoiaf #game of thrones fanfiction #bran stark imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #arya stark #sansa stark #house targaryen #isaac hempstead wright #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #game of thrones fic

[akarena]

Reminded me of this awesome fanfic by @kit-kat21 Attorney-Client Privilege.

I recommend it 👌

#jon snow #sansa stark #good fanfic #jonsa fic #jonsa #jon x sansa #asoiaf #A lovely fic

[melxhunter]

A WARRIOR’S VOYAGE

"With the sins of the sun and the sadness in the sky, you shall wonder why the universe never loved you back."

— In a world overrun by the corrupt and mad, driven by lust, greed, egoism, desire and obsessionalism, having a sweet and innocent nature always ends with death. Being honorable and having a strong moral compass is viewed as something ethereal one can only dream of.

That being said, her chances were slim. But she wasn't going to let that stop her.

It was winning or dying.

And Fiyona Mormont was not ready to die.

SCROLL DOWN FOR MORE…

HOUSE MORMONT of Bear Island is a vassal House which holds fealty to House Stark of Winterfell, to the Warden of the North. They had always been a small House – it was no secret. But somehow, that alone just made them even prouder.

It didn't matter how many overlooked the island's inhabitants and failed to see the whole picture. For even if most didn't fully realize it, House Mormont was fearsome enemies but also excellent allies. Even if they indeed are a very small house.

Their ancestral home of Bear Island is an island far to the northwest of Winterfell, its location and densely forested areas with a large bear population the main reasons to why it's the home to mostly woodsmen, crofters and fisherfolk. Despite that, Bear Island was one of the places within the Seven Kingdoms known for their skilled warriors. Known for how impeccable they were at sword fighting.

Not only that, but Bear Island was also one of the few subcultures within Westeros with an tradition of female fighters. You see, over the age of time, there had always been dangers of imminent attack from ironborn raiding ships while the men were out at sea which eventually led to the women of Bear Island being expected to defend their homes from attacks. Sometimes it even was attacks from wildings who avoided the wall completely by using boats to cross the bay from the Frozen Shore.

Thus people who hail from Bear Island are mostly strong, hardy, loyal and deep down compassionate and kindhearted. When they know what needs to be done, they don't hesitate to take action.

Fiyona Mormont was no exception. The young she-bear was taught to be a warrior from an early age, and she had always known the true horrors of the world, known about the monsters hiding in the shadows since the early stages of her youth.

Fiyona was no stranger to death either, for she had watched the life leave disappear from the animals which she hunted, even watched the life slip away from her father's eyes. It was horrible, but she knew it was a part of the harsh world she lived in.

Nothing could ever change it. It was the way it was, the way it always had been and always would remain.

What Fiyona was a stranger to, however, was love. Not the kind of love you receive from your mother, a sibling or a dear friend. No, Fiyona was a stranger to the kind of ethereal love which exists between two souls. Between two hearts which ignites in such a heated flame whenever they're near one another.

Not even in her life as Mia Nordin had she ever experienced it... not that she remembered that life...yet.

As the Seven Kingdoms seemed to hold its breath while preparing itself for yet another war, completely amid the world where greed and power reign supreme, Fiyona's life collides with a another's...under arranged circumstances.

Thus began the story of Fiyona Mormont and Robb Stark. Two young humans who would change the course of the game itself.

The future Warden of the North and the former heiress of Bear Island.

The Young Wolf and the She-Wolf.

The King and Queen in the North.

As brave as the dusk & as fierce as the storm.

Fiyona Mormont's tale is filled with broken pieces, terrible choices, betrayals and ugly truths. In spite of those parts indeed being heavy and literally true, they are nevertheless misleading. For the tale is also filled with happiness, heroism, love, humanity, kindness and peace in her soul.

It's an entangled tale in which a black bear is forced to run with the wolves only discover she was one of them all along.

A tale of the wild wolves and the black bear.

Interested to read more? Then check out the story A Warrior’s Voyage on my wattpad profile melxhunter!!

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #game of thrones #a song of ice and feels #arya stark #sansa stark #jon snow #i stand by daenerys #tyrion lannister #winterfell #lyanna mormont #theon greyjoy #cersei lannister #ned stark #catelyn stark #mother of dragons #the young wolf #robb stark imagine #robb stark fanfic #the red wedding #house stark #asoiaf #got imagine #got #got fanart #grrm #asoiaf fandom #bran stark #rickon stark #robbstarkedit

[sarahseach]

any jonsa fanfic recs for me please: AU in which jon grew up in kings landing as a targaryen/sand. i‘d be happy for finished works, but also happy with WIPs which are updated but not abandoned.

#jonsa #jonsa au #jon snow x sansa stark #jonsa fanfiction #jonsa fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #recommendation